


No Man is an Island

by Kethrielle



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:42:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1802398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kethrielle/pseuds/Kethrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre Dragon Age II story of Fenris and how he came to escape from Danarius.  It's not really canon, since it happens before the game, but it doesn't defy anything canon, either.  :-)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing Fenris hated, it was attending the elaborate social gatherings that the Tevinter elite seemed to feel compelled to host.  They were always too crowded and too loud; with too many people staring at or trying to touch him.  His master, Danarius, didn’t appreciate them any more than he did; the things he said about his so-called peers before and after such events were vicious.  However, it was beneficial to his power and importance to see and be seen, so he went whenever a worthy invitation offered.  

Wherever Danarius went, Fenris went also; showing off his prize possession and greatest accomplishment was one of Danarius’ few enjoyments at these events.  Fenris was always referred to as the magister’s body guard; though weapons were forbidden at these events, and Danarius’ magic kept him safer than weapons ever could.  No, the “body guard” title was nothing more than an excuse to show off his slave and the power he had gained by the lyrium brands burned into Fenris’ skin.

If there was one thing that worried Fenris, it was when Danarius started acting out of character.  His master had now made several trips to visit a newcomer to Tevinter, Magister Ritune.  The new magister was rich and powerful, and Danarius had been paying the most courteous attention to him since his arrival.  

Tonight combined both these factors; he and master Danarius were on their way to a party thrown by magister Ritune, and Danarius didn’t have a word to say against it.  Fenris kept his gaze focused on his hands folded in his lap, and tried not to worry about what the evening held.

***

For a night that had started with such trepidation, it was actually shaping up quite well.  Magister Danarius’ coach had gotten them to the party in good time, the receiving line had moved quickly.  Danarius had spent several moments talking to Magister Ritune and his wife before being introduced to the man’s children, two girls and a boy, though he only paid attention to the older of the two young ladies.  It was shortly after a conversation with her that he did something so unexpected that Fenris nearly said something that would have brought Danarius’ rage down on himself.  

Danarius dismissed Fenris from his presence.  Saying that he had no need for a body guard while a guest of such friends as these, he told Fenris to make himself scarce until it was time to leave.  Just barely managing to keep his confusion to himself, Fenris gave a short bow, and left, his mind spinning with questions.

Why was he suddenly not wanted?  Was Danarius’ act simply an overt display of trust, or was there some other motive?  Was this a test, to see if Fenris followed the immediate order, or stayed to follow the more basic order of protecting his master?  If so, there was no correct answer.  With no indication of what he should do, Fenris decided that he would follow orders, and stay away from the party.

He looked around the entry hall warily; where should he go?  The party was likely to last into the early hours of the morning, and it was the middle of winter; he couldn’t wait outside or in the carriage.  The Ritunes kept no slaves, and he wouldn't be welcome in the servant’s quarters.  He’d been here before, but only knew a few of the public rooms.

Suddenly, Fenris had an idea.  Following his memory of the mansion’s layout, he moved quickly towards his goal.

***

Fenris looked around the deserted library with satisfaction.  He’d been right, this room was perfect.  Completely empty due to the party downstairs, but used regularly enough that comfortable fire burned in the fireplace, even now.  It was a large room, well filled with shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books; comfortably appointed with a pair of large wingback chairs drawn up in front of the sizeable fireplace, and well provided with expensive (though unlit) candles.

He took a moment to indulge himself, walking slowly around the perimeter of the room, allowing himself to trail a single fingertip along the spines of the books sitting neatly on their shelves.  For that moment, he wished that he could read the words printed in those books.  Shaking off the though with a sneer, he turned and walked briskly to the chairs, and settled himself in one of them.  It should be enough that he had this time - all unexpected - to himself.  Several hours of privacy, with no responsibilities, was a nearly unheard of luxury, and he ought to be content with it.

***

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, half dozing, half hypnotized by the dancing flames, when the sound of footsteps approaching in the hallway startled him into full alertness.  He sat completely still, hoping whoever it was would continue along the hallway.  The quick steps stopped in front of the library door, though, and to his dismay, the door was eased quietly open.

Fenris looked around quickly.  There weren’t any other ways out of the library, and no place he could be concealed completely.  With only a few seconds to decide, he crouched in the shadows under the short library ladder that was sitting in a corner, and hoped the general dimness of the firelit room would conceal him.  Maybe whoever it was wouldn’t stay long.

***

Grace made her way down the hallway as quickly as she could while still be quiet and managing the large basket Cook had filled for her.  When she reached her goal, she sighed with relief.  Turning the doorknob slowly and silently was a habit; the quick glance she sent up and down the hallway was mostly a formality - now that she was safely away, she was unlikely to be stopped.

Still, there was a good reason for caution, so she looked into the library before slipping through the smallest opening she could manage.  The room looked deserted, but the fire was burning cheerfully to keep the chill away.  She thought she caught the faintest hint of movement from the corner of her eye, but when she turned to looked in that direction, there was nothing.  Dancing shadows then, she thought with a sigh, enhanced by her own guilty conscience.  

She closed the door behind her with the same caution that she’d opened it with, making sure there wasn’t even a click to give her away if anyone happened to be coming along the hallway.  Then, she turned back into the room and made her way over to the fire and the warm rug laid out in front of it.  Setting the basket down, she turned towards one wall and a pile of large cushions that rested there.  Selecting several, she settled them in front of the fireplace as well, and went back to the shelves to get some books.

With her books firmly in hand, Grace was grinning as she made her way back to the fire.  Sitting on one of her cushions, she pulled the basket over to her.  Just as she was lifting the lid, someone sneezed.

Startled, she jumped to her feet, cursing the long skirts that twisted around her legs as she spun to face the corner the sound had come from.  It wasn’t the graceful motion she should have managed, but she did end up standing, facing the correct direction, with a small knife held ready in her hand, as her wide eyes scanned the shadows.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris made it into the corner just as the door opened.  Ducking under the ladder, he watched as someone slipped through the narrow opening and shut the door silently.  He’d been hoping that it was a servant come to tend the fire, or a lost party guest, but quickly realized that this person was neither.

Too richly dressed to be a servant, the woman moved with too much familiarity to be a lost guest.  Worse, she seemed to be settling in for a long stay.  He watched as she made herself comfortable, automatically taking in details while he tried to figure out how he was going to get out of this mess.

She was tall, with dark brown hair that gleamed with subtle red highlights in the firelight.  Her fair complexion may have been attractive if not for the color of her gown - just a pale enough yellow to make her look slightly ill.  Altogether, she presented an image of wealth, but not of beauty; her figure was slender but lacked the curves to make it attractive, she moved with a confidence that was assuredly un-ladylike, and which spoke of a strength that probably intimidated her peers and suitors alike.  Her wide eyes were a dark color that he couldn’t make out from where he was concealed, but set against her pale skin and the dark mass of her hair, the effect was more unsettling than anything else, making her look like a starving waif instead of the wealthy lady she surely was.

She was a mystery, and if he’d seen her in passing, the mystery would have given him a pleasant diversion in those times when all he had to himself were his thoughts.  As it was, she presented more problems than questions; he had no idea how he was going to escape from this room.  

It simply wasn’t possible for him to leave while she was present, and all her preparations spoke of a long stay.  What would he do if she stayed longer than the party lasted?  Master Danarius would make him wish he was dead if he wasn’t at the carriage when Danarius was ready to leave; that punishment would be preferable to what would happen if this woman reported his presence here, especially if her family were wealthy or powerful.

Suddenly, these concerns were the least of his problems.  As he shifted slightly, he stirred up some dust that had collected under the little rolling ladder he was hiding behind.  He fought the feeling, but couldn’t restrain his reaction.  

His loud sneeze broke the silence of the room, startling the woman and sending her to her feet.  The small corner of his mind that wasn’t frozen in terror was impressed by her quick reflexes and surprised by the small knife she pulled from somewhere as she turned to face the corner where he was hiding.

Fenris sighed.  There was no point in pretending he wasn’t there.  Perhaps he could persuade her to just let him leave.  Reluctantly, and fearing the worst, Fenris stood and moved into the light.  He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands held open and away from his body.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace stared at the wiry man who slid from the shadows under the ladder.  He was only slightly taller than she was, with a slim build that belied the strength she could see in him.  His stark white hair fell forward to hide his face, especially with the way he kept his head down.  Even without seeing his face, she knew him.  Magister Danarius’ slave, his body guard, she’d seen him before when Danarius visited and again this evening.  She had been curious as to where he had gone when Danarius had dismissed him.  Clearly, that mystery was solved.

Grace studied him closely; she hadn’t had the opportunity to previously, though he was definitely well worth looking at.  She was concerned that he hadn’t said anything, or even looked at her since standing; she hadn’t thought she was that intimidating in her finery and holding the small knife, certainly not to a trained warrior.  Perhaps there was more threat in her station than she’d given herself credit for, though.  There was nothing she could do about that, but she wanted to make him as comfortable as possible.  Slowly and deliberately, Grace straightened to a more relaxed pose, tucking the knife back into its hiding place, and sat back down on the cushion she’d abandoned.  When he didn’t move or speak, she tipped her head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of his face through his hair.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid my reflexes got the better of me.  I promise not to come at you with the knife, though.  Will you come join me?”

Dead silence.  The man standing before her had tensed when she started speaking, but at her last question, he froze, not even seeming to breathe.  Finally, after a long pause, he responded.

“If you wish, mistress.”

Grace’s eyes narrowed again.  Lovely voice, hateful words.  Certainly he knew her family didn’t keep slaves, and she had clearly phrased the invitation as a question, not an order.  

Gritting her teeth, she smiled and prepared to deliver a scathing retort.  Before she could, her brain caught up with her, and she suddenly realised what she had been looking at without noticing.  He was terrified.  Of her.  Grace let out a slow breath, and tipped her head to the side, studying him again.

Her first impression had been correct.  Despite the warrior’s grace with which he moved, and the muscles that showed how extensive his training had been, he really was terrified; standing there filled with a tension that she had caused simply by being in this room.  She was filled with a new appreciation for her father’s refusal to follow the Tevinter custom of keeping slaves.  She hated seeing anyone afraid of her, let alone a warrior whom others should fear.

When she spoke again, she kept her voice deliberately soft and dropped the teasing tone she’d used before.  Clearly, he wasn’t used to such things and she didn’t want to cause him any additional discomfort.

“It’s up to you, but I thought you’d be more comfortable by the fire.  I truly am sorry to interrupt your solitude, let me make it up to you?  I wasn’t planning on going back to the party until the end, so I made sure to bring provisions.”  She pulled the basket over to her, lifting the lid to let the smells of the various delicacies she’d brought fill the space between them.  She looked back at him, and smiled encouragingly, resisting the temptation to try to catch his eyes.

Fenris looked up, surprised by her sudden change of tone.  He was relieved to find that she looked completely serious.  As the scents rose from the basket, his stomach growled.  The young lady suppressed a grin, and nudged the basket towards him.  

Almost without meaning to, Fenris walked over and sat on the hearth rug facing her.  He folded his hands in his lap, ducked his head so his hair fell forward to hide his face, and waited for her to make the next move.


	3. Chapter 3

Grace smiled when Fenris sat down, but quickly turned her attention to unpacking the basket to hide it from him.  She set out all of the goodies she’d brought; when the basket was empty, she waved a hand towards them invitingly.

“Help yourself to whatever you like, there’s a lot more than I can eat myself - I think Cook felt sorry for me.  It’s all stuff from the party, so it’s bound to be good.”

Knowing that he wouldn't take anything until she did, Grace didn't stand on ceremony, but started helping herself from the plates set between them.  When he slowly relaxed and selected something for himself, she smiled and started talking.

She kept the conversation on commonplace things, and mostly stayed with topics that wouldn't require much input from him; a good choice since he responded in single word answers when he spoke at all.  Still, her plan worked; he was eating, and looking more relaxed by the minute.  She counted it as a win.

Slowly, she added a few more open-ended comments, inviting a reply without requiring one, and letting the pauses lengthen; she felt well-rewarded when he began participating in their conversation.

All the progress was instantly lost when he interrupted her with a gesture, his attention on the library door.  She fell silent, and heard what he had, footsteps coming down the hallway and pausing in front of the library.  She looked back over at him, and saw that he was already on his feet, ready to go back to hiding under the ladder.

“Fenris, wait, not over there.”  She kept her voice low enough that hopefully whoever was about to enter the room wouldn't hear her; speaking quickly in the hope of keeping him safe.  He turned to look at her, and she could see the fear on his face.  “It’s not concealed enough, and there’s still dust.”  She pointed to one of the wingback chairs.  “Sit here, pull your feet up, and stay away from the edges.  I’ll make sure they don’t get far enough to see you.  Trust me, I’ll get rid of whoever is out there.”

Fenris stared at her intently; it was the first time he’d raised his eyes to her face, but she could see the distrust in them and knew this wasn't a victory.  Finally, he moved reluctantly toward the chair she’d indicated and sat how she’d suggested.  

Grace sighed, silently cursing whoever was about to come in.  This wasn't trust, this was a slave obeying an order.  The only thing she could do now was make good on her promise and hope they could recover later.  She stood, facing the door as it opened.

She couldn't help the smile that lit her features when she saw who it was.  “Tre!  What are you doing up here?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Fenris sat huddled in the chair, his feet on the seat and his arms around his knees, trying to make himself as small as possible.  This was a horrible plan.  When whoever was coming into the room got close to the fire, they’d see him.  There would be no way to pretend that he hadn't been taking liberties that no slave ever should, sharing food and conversation with a young lady.  If only she’d let him hide under the ladder - he’d still be found, but at least it would be assumed that she hadn't known he was there.  If she kept her mouth shut, they might have been able to get out of it.

But no, she had to come up with a different plan.  At best, it was a fool’s plan; at worst, it was a deliberate attempt to get him in trouble.  He followed orders, of course; there was the slightest twinge of hurt that she had given an order, after the way she’d been treating him all evening, talk to him as if he actually mattered.  He should have known better; the wealthy and powerful gave orders to a slave, even if they had been nice for a time.  He sat, ducking his head so his hair hid the bitter scowl on his face, and waited for the worst.

It came sooner than he’d expected.  No sooner had the door opened, then she was calling a man’s name, delight evident in her voice.

“Tre!  What are you doing up here?”

“I’m looking for you, Grace.  You’ll be missed before long, and you know how upset mother will be that you've wandered off.  What were you thinking?”

It was a young man’s voice, and Fenris was not at all surprised to hear the door close and footsteps come farther into the room.  But before the intruder got more than a few feet into the room, Grace was running towards him; she was speaking again, but sounded clearly distraught, he suspected she was even crying.

“Oh, Tre!  I couldn't stay down there another minute.  You remember I told you about Jason?  I thought he liked me, but he was just using me!  He wanted me to introduce him to Bea, and when I did, he asked her to dance.”  She drew a shaky, sniffling breath.  “She turned him down, of course, and he--  he said--- oh, Tre!  he’s horrible!”

This last part was muffled; Fenris didn't dare try to look, but he suspected that she’d thrown herself into the young man’s arms.  The newcomer was trying awkwardly to speak, but seemed to be having trouble getting a word in over her crying.

“He said he didn't know why he’d bothered with me.  That I was use-- useless, and boring, and-- and _plain_!  I didn't want to ruin Bea’s night, but I couldn't stay down there, Tre!  You know how much I liked him, and I was just _so_ hurt, and I knew mother would be able to tell I was upset, and then she’d be mad, and then I’d be even more upset, and-- and-- I just wanted him to _like_ me!”

More sobbing, and the young man was clearly at a loss as to how to deal with her.  Fenris was listening with rapt attention, how had she managed to hide her feelings from him?  She hadn't seemed to have a care in the world while they were sitting here; who was this Jason person who had hurt her so badly?  

Fenris was quite surprised to find he felt protective of this woman he’d just met, he wanted very much to go hurt the unknown Jason as much as Grace had been hurt.  He sank deeper into the chair.   _No_ , he reminded himself, _he didn't want to help her.  She was about to betray him._  He couldn't quite find it in himself to believe, as he had a moment ago, that she was going to betray him on purpose; nonetheless, the result would be the same as soon as her friend came further into the room.

“Grace, stop crying; please, stop crying.  I’m sorry he was such an idiot.  Don’t spend any more thought on him, he’s not worth it.  Look, I’ll go back and cover for you, alright?  Just please, stop crying.  I can’t stand to see you so upset.  I’ll tell mother you were feeling sick, and left before you drew any attention.  Just make sure you’re not still here when the party ends, ok?  Look, I see you want to be alone, so I’ll just go now.  Just- just forget about that jerk, Grace.  You’re wonderful, he’d have been lucky to dance with you.”

It sounded like he was patting her on the back, and then he quickly left the room.  Fenris didn't move.  Was it really over?  And he was safe?  It couldn't be.  There was a rustle of fabric, and Fenris realized he wasn't entirely safe - there was still Grace, who had been sobbing just the moment before.  Suddenly, he almost wished he had been caught; what did he know about dealing with crying young ladies?  Clearly, whoever Tre was, he was smart enough to get out of that room quickly.

But Grace walked calmly back over to the hearth rug, and sat in her place.  She turned to Fenris and gave him a bright smile.  It was the first time since they’d met that she hadn't carefully kept her eyes away from his face; his attention was caught and without meaning to, he let her eyes catch his.  Her eyes were a bright, sparkling blue; even knowing that he was risking trouble, Fenris didn't want to look away.

Then she grinned at him, and his jaw dropped.  Her eyes weren't red.  Her cheeks weren't flushed.  She didn't look even slightly unhappy.  In fact, she looked no different now than she had before they were interrupted.  He couldn't find any words, he couldn't find the willpower to look away, so he just sat there and gaped at her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace laughed at the shocked look on Fenris’ face.  She waved back towards his spot facing her, and when he moved there without changing expression, she smiled.

“Oh, please, I didn’t think I was that convincing.  Did you really believe that story?”  She put on an exaggerated expression of hurt.  “Oh!  He used me to get to Bea!  He said I’m… plain!”  Another grin, and she spoke in her normal tone, “Tears always scare Tre, it was the best way to get rid of him quickly.  I didn’t think we wanted him to decide to stay, did we?”

Fenris just shook his head, feeling a grudging respect for her.  “It was all a plan?  You knew he wouldn’t come in?”  At her nod and smile, he let out a long breath.  “So who is Jason?”

She shrugged carelessly.  “Oh, I don’t know.  I doubt there is anyone down there named Jason.  But Tre never listens to my babbling, so he wouldn’t know whether I’d mentioned a Jason or not.  It’s true that Bea is a beauty, everyone wants to meet and dance with her.  It’s an accepted fact that I am plain, and that no one particularly cares to dance with me.  So, it’s a plausible story, and when you add in the tears, there was no chance that Tre was going to question me too much, or stay long enough for me to calm down.”  She flashed him a bright smile, and picked up the chocolate covered berry she’d abandoned when they first heard Tre’s approach.

Fenris huffed out a breath that might almost have been a chuckle, and helped himself to a snack of his own.  “So who are Tre and Bea?”

Grace smiled, “Oh, Tre’s my big brother, and Bea is our older sister.  I feel sorry for Tre sometimes, with a girl on each end of the birth order - he can’t have it easy.  Fortunately, Bea and I get along well most of the time; even more since we’ve moved here.”

Fenris was about to nod when a sliver of ice slid through him.  He kept his voice level, despite the dread that filled him.  “You haven’t lived here long, then?”

Grace stared at him like he’d lost his mind.  “Of course not.  In fact, Magister Danarius was one of the first people to come visit us.  You’ve been here as often as he has.  Didn’t you know we had only recently arrived?”

Fenris opened his mouth, forcing the words past the knot in his chest.  “I-- I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name before.”  

Grace bit her bottom lip, but shrugged.  “I’m sorry, I thought you knew; I guess you weren’t really looking at us when you arrived.  I’m Grace.  Grace Ritune.  That was my brother Trevor; Bea is Beatrice.”  She was staring at him with confusion, the blue eyes that had so caught his attention just moments before filled with concern.

Fenris closed his eyes with a low groan.   _Of all the people he could have met, of all the people who could have shown such unexpected kindness to him, it had to be the daughter of the very man his master was so very interested in impressing.  Naturally._


	4. Chapter 4

When a shaft of sunlight found its way between her curtains and hit Grace full in the face the next morning, she rolled over with a grumble.  Last night had been going along nicely; not only had she escaped the party fairly early and with relative ease, but she’d gotten to speak with Fenris.  Although he’d been withdrawn and nervous at first, her light chatter and easy laughter had eventually worked on him.  He’d actually started responding to her comments.  Then her brother had come looking for her, and ruined everything.

Grace sighed, and rolled onto her back, with one arm flung over her eyes.  If she was being honest, it wasn’t Tre’s fault.  Fenris had seemed willing enough to relax again when she explained the trick she’d played on her brother.  No, it was when he found out who she was that the evening had been ruined.  Although she’d stayed awhile longer after that point, he was completely withdrawn, barely acknowledging her presence.

She hated that he was so afraid of her, simply because of her name.  She hadn’t been able to get him to tell her what exactly was the problem, of course, because by then he’d stopped speaking.  The night had ended on a sour note, and when she went to bed, she truly did have the headache Tre had told their mother she was suffering from.

Before Grace could decide whether it was worth trying to stay in bed all day, the door to her room opened, and her sister looked in.  When Bea saw that Grace was up, she flung open the door and bounced across the room.  Flinging herself onto the bed, she flashed Grace a huge, delighted smile.

“Oh, Grace!  The party last night was so wonderful!  I can’t believe father invited so many potential suitors and - did you hear? - he said I can choose whomever I like the best!  Even  Mother was surprised.  Father told her that he had made sure that they were all eligible, and that any of them would be a good match for me.  So Mother made sure that I met positively everyone.  I could hardly keep them all straight, and I don’t think I had even a moment to myself all night - but they were all so handsome!”

When Bea paused for breath and cast an expectant look at her, Grace sat up and smiled at her.  “I’m glad you get to make your own choice, Bea.  So, did any of these handsome, eligible suitors stand out to you?”

Bea smiled, not the bright, bubbly smile she’d worn minutes before; this was a secretive smile.  “Oh yes.  There were a few who did, but one above all the others.  He was one of the only men who asked me about my magical studies; he was the only one who acted as if I could think for myself.  Mother says it’s because he’s older than I am - he’s had a chance to prove himself already, and doesn't think of a pretty wife as a trophy.  He didn't even seem disappointed when I told him that I only had mage potential, he said something very kind about how I would surely pass it on to my children, and what a great gift that would be.  

“Mother says that an older man would be a good match for me; she thinks that I’d have more freedom if my husband didn't think he had to prove anything by marrying me - she said I could be sure he really felt affection for me.  I don’t know.  He isn't as handsome as some of the others, but he has those nice old-fashioned manners, you know?”

Grace was nodding thoughtfully as Bea babbled.  She was surprised to hear that Bea was considering someone who wasn't the most handsome man available; her sister was usually very focused on looks.  Grace suspected their mother’s influence was affecting her sister’s preference - their mother was more interested that her favorite daughter marry well, than in the bridegroom’s appearance.

Bea was talking again, singing the praises of her favored suitor, when their mother appeared in the doorway.

“Well, Grace, I certainly hope you’re happy.  Your conspicuous absence ruined your sister’s party.”

Grace raised an eyebrow, her eyes moving expressively from her mother to the still happily-chattering Bea, and back again.  Their mother huffed an impatient breath.

“Well, your absence was noticed.  I was asked about you several times last night.  And what could I say?  That my youngest daughter was ill?  That you had felt fine when everyone was arriving, but suddenly you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them?  No one would believe it, and I don’t blame them!  I told them you’d been jilted, they all believed that.”

Grace groaned, and flopped back into her pillows.  Lovely.  Of course “they all believed” that she’d been jilted.  Even Bea was looking at her with pity and dawning realization on her face.  The worst part was, she sort of had been.  Fenris hadn't wanted to spend any more time in her presence than he had to after finding out who she was.  And how likely was she to have another opportunity to speak to him like that?  Her father preferred quiet entertainments; the large party had been for Bea and their mother’s sake, not his own.

Reluctantly, Grace turned her attention back to her mother and Bea.  They’d been talking on, completely unaware of her preoccupation.  

“Father says that if you’ll tell him who you prefer, he’ll arrange to have them over for dinner in the next week or so; that way you’ll have a chance to talk to them one on one, and really get to know them better.  I told him to start with your favorite.  I must say, he was quite surprised, but I think he likes the idea.”

Bea giggled, and started talking about who else should be invited and what she would wear for each.  Grace sighed and got out of bed.  She picked up her robe and made her way to the bathroom.

When she returned, washed, dressed, and hoping for a different conversation topic, she was dismayed to hear them planning the order of suitors they’d invite to dinner.  She knew better than to leave or make any comment, so she sat in the window seat and picked up a book.

 

She couldn't focus on the book, though, so she idly turned the pages, and let her thoughts drift back to Fenris.  She’d been careful not to try catching his eyes; she seen how he deliberately avoided her gaze.  There had been one time when he’d met her eyes - those seconds were worth remembering, he had the most amazing leaf green eyes.  

Grace sighed.  Green eyes, pure white hair.  Well muscled body, and a voice that she would happily listen to forever.  She was in trouble.

He had a dry sense of humor, she’d been thrilled to catch a few brief glimpses of it while they talked.  He spoke to her as if her thoughts mattered, he listened to her as if what she was saying was important.  He looked at her as if she was… attractive - actually worth looking at.  Yep, definitely in trouble.

The other side of the coin, of course, was his general demeanor.  He acted as if he was expecting an attack; the small sliver of trust he’d granted her had been grudgingly given - and just as quickly rescinded by nothing more than the knowledge of her name.  Something she hadn't even been hiding from him.  She had a feeling that any interaction with him would feel as if she was constantly walking on eggshells, and would be fraught with pitfalls.  And none of that mattered - she wanted to see him again.

Grace let her head fall back against the wall with a long sigh.  She had no chance of getting out of this mess, she’d have to see it through.  Provided, of course, that she had an opportunity to see it through.  And how likely was that?  When Magister Danarius came to see her father, he brought Fenris with him, but never gave him leave to wander away.  Unless there was another party, she had very little hope of the conditions ever being the same.

Suddenly, Grace was pulled from her thoughts by her mother’s voice.  “Grace!  Aren't you paying attention?  I asked you if you thought you could manage to remain healthy for these dinners?”

“Yes, Mother, I’ll be fine for dinners with Bea’s suitors.  When is the first one?  And who is it?”

Bea giggled as their mother rolled her eyes.  “Honestly, Grace, haven’t you heard a word we said?  Your father said we could invite Bea’s first choice for dinner as soon as we wanted.  We’re sending the invitation to Magister Danarius this afternoon, to join us for dinner in three days.  I expect you to be there to support your sister, Grace.”

Grace stared at her mother, then at Bea.  Magister Danarius?  Her sister’s first choice suitor was _Magister Danarius_?  

She managed to stammer an answer to her mother.  Although most of her mind was frozen with shock that her sister could be interested in Magister Danarius - a man as old as their father! - the small part that still worked was hatching a plan.


	5. Chapter 5

Three days was hardly enough time for Lady Ritune to get everything ready for the dinner with Magister Danarius.  Her husband at first expressed surprise at Beatrice’s choice; he had obligingly sent the invitation though, which was all that mattered.  An affirmative response had arrived quickly, and preparations were begun.

The first, and easiest, was to choose the menu and give Cook her orders.  That done, Lady Ritune turned her attention to the state of the house; a short meeting with her housekeeper had solved that issue.  Her next task was to select clothes for the family.  Although this was Beatrice’s night to get to know Danarius, the whole family would be on display; Lady Ritune was well aware that marriage among those of their social standing was more than a union between two people, it was a union of their families as well.

Her husband and son’s clothing was easy enough to pick out, so was her own.  She spent a couple hours on Beatrice’s wardrobe.  This was critical; Bea had to look her best, but not as if she was trying too hard.  She had to be dressed in a way that displayed her wealth and taste, but wasn’t gaudy.  Finally, Lady Ritune was happy with her selections - including a single strand of pearls from her own collection - and turned her attention with far less optimism to Grace’s clothing for the evening.

Lady Ritune hadn’t thought much of her youngest daughter’s looks for years; once Grace outgrew the little girl cuteness she’d had as a child, her mother had been unable to find anything lovely about her.  Lady Ritune’s idea of beauty was Bea’s (and her own) fair good looks: blond hair, sky blue eyes, rosy complexion, narrow waist and soft curves.  She saw nothing attractive (and assumed no one else would) in Grace’s dark brown hair, startling dark blue eyes, and pale complexion.  Further, Grace loved to ride her horse and spent much of her time outdoors; all the activity gave her a willowy strength, and while she was slender enough, she didn’t have the curves her sister did.

Since there was nothing that she could do to make Grace attractive, Lady Ritune was utterly disinterested in her wardrobe and had left Grace to make her own decisions.  Grace was even less interested in her wardrobe than her mother was; since she had to have other clothes besides riding habits, she settled for simply repeating a few items from Bea’s last dress order whenever it was time to select clothing.  As a result, her gowns were generally out of fashion; they were always in styles designed to highlight Bea’s very different assets, and always in colors more flattering to Bea than to herself.  Grace didn’t care, the seamstresses weren’t paid to care, and Lady Ritune certainly didn’t care.

Until now.  Now, she stared at Grace’s clothing with despair.  What was she going to do?  She had never cared before how Grace looked; in a large party, no one paid any attention to her, and Grace did her best to make sure that things stayed that way.  At times, her plain looks had served to emphasize Bea’s beauty, and that had been fine with her mother and sister.  Now, however, Grace could hardly avoid notice, and it was a matter of family pride that she at least be dressed well, even if she never could be attractive.  Turning away from the wardrobe in frustration, Lady Ritune saw Grace and Bea heading into Bea’s room.  She followed her daughters quickly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Three days wasn’t very long, when she had so much to accomplish.  When Grace heard that her sister was interested in Danarius, her first thought was surprise.  It wasn’t long before she saw the opportunity she’d been presented with, though.  As soon as she heard that her father’s invitation had been accepted, she put her plan into action.

She spent every free minute with Bea.  She helped her try different hairstyles and decide which would be more flattering.  She helped her get out their great-grandmother’s second best flatware and silverware (too good for everyday use, but not so fancy that it would look silly at a family dinner).  She spent hours helping Bea arrange flowers all over the house.

Two days spent on dozens of different tasks, and all the while, they talked.  She hadn’t done this much housework since the last time her mother had punished her for neglecting her embroidery in favor of her horse, but it was worth it if she could just talk to Bea.  They chattered about everything, but mostly about Magister Danarius.  They went over and over every bit of news or information they’d ever heard about him - from the fact that he kept slaves to the fact that he was one of the most powerful magisters in Tevinter.  Between these stories, Grace added others; telling her sister they were rumors that she’d heard around, she told tales about how dangerous Magister Danarius’ prized slave and bodyguard was.

She told Bea how the white tattoos he wore were magic that could make him invisible; how he had killed from behind, in the dark, in cold blood; how he killed anyone who looked  on his master with even a hint of anger - and all with no warning, and no chance to explain.  These stories were complete inventions, things she made up on the spot and added to based on Bea’s reactions.  She dropped them oh-so-casually between the other things they discussed, never enough to be obvious, and always attributed to different sources.  She didn’t dwell on these tales; she just repeated them as casually as they talked about the running of Magister Danarius’ household, and hoped they were doing some good.

The afternoon before Magister Danarius was to come, Bea came up to Grace in a high state of nerves.  Whispering that she really could use her sister’s advice, Bea dragged Grace towards her room.  She was just about to start telling Grace her problem, when their mother came in.

“Grace, there you are, child.  I’ve been looking through your wardrobe, and you simply have nothing appropriate for tomorrow evening’s dinner.  I want you to go immediately down to the seamstress in town.  I know she isn’t as good as Madame Calwell, but she’s more likely to have something that’s at least partially made up.  Ask her what will suit you, and make sure it’s delivered no later than noon tomorrow.  I don’t care about the cost, and if she has to take it from another customer’s order, we’ll be sure to pay her for the inconvenience.”  

Without waiting for a response, Lady Ritune turned her attention to Bea.  “I’ve already selected your gown, and you’ll have my strand of pearls to go with it.  You’ve been been doing entirely too much lately, Bea.  You should take a chance to rest.”

Bea looked at her mother with wide eyes, then at her sister who looked equally surprised, and unhappy at the prospect of a new gown.  “May I go with Grace, mother?”

Lady Ritune gave her permission, and left with a final admonition, “Under no circumstances will you select the gown yourself, Grace; let her decide what will look the best on you.  I’m not expecting miracles, but surely she can make you look more attractive than you usually do.”

When she was gone, Grace sighed.  “Well, I suppose we should go.  What did you want to talk about?”

Bea shook her head.  “I’ll tell you on the way.  You go get ready, I’ll order the carriage.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

When they were seated comfortably in the carriage and on their way to town, Grace raised an eyebrow at Bea.  “Well?”

Bea bit her bottom lip before answering, her hands twisting anxiously in her lap.

“I want your advice on something.  I’m looking forward to dinner with Magister Danarius, but I don’t think I’ll be able to impress him.  That bodyguard of his makes me so nervous, Grace!  I’ve heard horrible things about him from everyone; I don’t think I could possibly be at my best with him standing there behind Magister Danarius all the time, listening and deciding how to kill me if he had to.  I don’t think Father would forbid him from coming, though, and I don’t know what else to.  Do you think I’m being silly?”

Grace had to bite her tongue to keep the grin off her face.  Her plan had worked, and Bea hadn’t pinned her new-found fear on Grace’s stories.  She put on a thoughtful expression as she answered her sister, carefully speaking slowly enough to seem as if this were the first time she’d considered such things.

“No, Bea, you’re not being silly; I can certainly see how you’d feel that way.  You’re right, though, Father wouldn’t forbid Magister Danarius from bringing his own bodyguard - and really, it’s such a long way between his estate and ours and the roads are so unsafe that you wouldn’t want him to be defenseless on the trip, would you?”  When Bea shook her head, Grace patted her arm.

“On the other hand, we know that Magister Danarius is perfectly safe once he’s here.  Why don’t you just tell him that Fen- his bodyguard - makes you nervous, and ask if he could wait somewhere else during dinner?  I am sure that no one would think less of you for that; on the contrary, Magister Danarius would probably be quite impressed at your sensitivity, especially if you tell him you understand how he could want protection for his journey.  And then, once he’s agreed this time, it will be easier to get him to agree the next time he comes, and the next.  And if you ask when he arrives, Father and Mother will probably support you.”

Bea was smiling at her gratefully.  “That’s perfect, Grace!  Oh, thank you!  I’ve been so afraid of saying the wrong thing - you know some people here think we’re some sort of crusaders because Father won’t keep slaves - I didn’t want Magister Danarius to think that about me.  But you’re right, simply being afraid of him is reason enough - and not so surprising! - and acknowledging that he needs protection while traveling doesn’t make me look silly at all.”

Grace smiled back at her sister, feeling very satisfied with herself at the success of her plan.  Then the coach pulled up at the seamstress’ store, and her smile faded.  

“Do you think Mother would let me off, if I told her I was afraid of the seamstress?”

Bea laughed.  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, silly.  It’s just a dress.  Wouldn’t you like something that looks nice?”

Grace shook her head.  “No, not really.  You know I don’t care about that.  But, I am more afraid of Mother than of your Magister’s bodyguard, so I suppose we should go.”

Bea’s giggle followed her out of the coach as she went to meet her doom.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a very odd evening, and the following day was even more odd.  The morning had started normally enough: Master Danarius had slept late and eaten a simple luncheon.  He had started going about his usual tasks when the afternoon post had arrived.  Something within had pleased him greatly; the effect still hadn't worn off a day later.

Whatever he had received, Danarius had returned a prompt answer, and gone around the rest of the day with as smug and self satisfied an air as Fenris had ever seen him in.  The following day, he rose early and summoned - of all people - the tailor he frequented.  Dismissing Fenris, he spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon closed in his rooms with the tailor.

Fenris rarely had so much time to himself, and it was welcome indeed as he had much to reflect on.  He always thought better with his sword in hand, so he made his way to the courtyard and the practice dummies he had set up there.  As soon as he started the warm up routine, his thoughts turned to the party.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

He had never met anyone like Grace before, at least not in the small span of memory that he possessed.  She was kind, funny, and intelligent; she seemed utterly disinterested in the fact that he was a slave; she gave the impression that she treated everyone with the same thoughtful kindness that she had shown him.

Before her brother came in to shatter his peace, he’d actually found himself enjoying her company; never had he simply sat and shared a meal with someone who wasn't a fellow slave - and even other slaves avoided him because of his reputation.

_Warm up complete, he moved into a basic attack pattern against the dummy, his thoughts flowing as freely as his movements._

He was confused about the way the evening had ended, though.  He truly hadn't known who she was, her revelation had come as a most unwelcome surprise to him.  He had more than enough experience with the Tevinter elite to know that none of them would show kindness to a slave without some sort of ulterior motive.  

He knew, in the instant he learned who she was, that she was up to something, and that whatever it was would end badly for him.

He had less experience with women of any station, but he had only to look as far as his master’s apprentice to know what _they_ were like.  Hadriana, with her sly glances and unwelcome demands, had been making his life even more miserable ever since Master Danarius had accepted her as his apprentice.  And all of it was backed up with the certain knowledge that if he rebuffed her she would yell to Danarius about the “insult,” and the punishment he received would be severe.

He had, in the instant that he learned who Grace was, started frantically replaying the night’s events in his mind, trying to determine not only what she wanted, but if anything he’d done could have displeased her.  While he couldn't come up with anything right away, it quickly became clear that she was unhappy with his current behavior; he hadn't known what to do to mitigate the damage he was sure had already been done, so he simply decided on the safest course: he withdrew into himself and waited for her to give up.

She had left shortly thereafter, and he’d spent the rest of the night in a state of panic; every moment expecting Master Danarius’ summons, and with every moment that it didn’t come, expecting that the eventual fallout would be that much worse.

Nothing of the sort had happened, though.  Danarius had summoned him in the usual way when he was ready to leave, and had spent the ride home with a sort of self satisfied smirk on his face, and remained silent.  The next morning had brought nothing out of the ordinary until the post had arrived.

_Fenris sped up his movements as he started the more advanced exercises, the huge greatsword flashing in the sunlight as he parried and struck at his stationary opponent._

The more he reflected on things in the bright light of day, however, the less convinced he became that Grace had held any ulterior motives.  She had simply been kind to him.  Her family didn't keep slaves, and perhaps she didn’t know how one was supposed to act around them.  Would she have behaved the same with a hired retainer?  He could convince himself that she might.  

The alternative - that she had been patronizing him or turning him into some project or object of pity - occurred to him and made him so angry that his next blow landed wildly on the practice dummy, cutting deeply into the wooden frame.  Scowling at his momentary loss of control, Fenris started the drill again.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The sun was setting when the front door of the mansion opened, and Master Danarius’ butler showed the tailor out.  Expecting that his unusual free time was at an end, Fenris stepped up the speed of the last drill and the huge sword flashed in blinding red arcs around him in the dying light.

All this time spent thinking about a person - and a problem - that was unlikely to have any resolution; when would he ever see Grace again, let alone in a setting where they could talk?  

That thought provoked a savage swing; the sound of the practice dummy’s corn husk filled head hitting the ground made him realize how out of control his emotions had gotten.  Panting, Fenris stood still and sheathed the giant blade.  

This was ridiculous.  He shouldn't care so much about an idle young lady who had surely only been kind to him out of boredom, or a misguided sense of pity.

Fenris still stood before the decapitated practice dummy, attempting to put the memories of Grace out of his mind, when he felt the silent tug of Danarius’ magical summons.  Too much time to think was apparently as bad as too little; he was determined to forget Grace Ritune and the confused feelings she prompted in him.

Lowering his head, Fenris pushed all thoughts and emotions out of his mind, and settled his expression into an impassive mask before making his way into the mansion.

 


	7. Chapter 7

They were seated in Magister Danarius’ carriage - Fenris sitting stiffly on the rear facing seat with his greatsword resting across his knees and his eyes fixed on his folded hands resting on the flat of the blade; Danarius reclining in the forward facing seat wearing the newly designed mage-robes the tailor had delivered that morning - and half way to their destination before Danarius spoke.

“Well, pet, we’ll be making this trip quite frequently for awhile, if things go well.”  

The self-satisfied tone in which he spoke caught Fenris’ attention more than the bland statement could have.  Despite his interest, he gave the expected bland response.

“Yes, Master.”

Danarius smiled, settling further back into the corner of his seat.  “Yes indeed.  I am courting Beatrice Ritune, and expect that we’ll be paying frequent visits until things are settled.  Her father has said she will be allowed to make her own choice - foolish indulgence - but I have no doubt of the outcome.”  Suddenly, his voice sharpened, and Fenris felt the heat of his glare.  “I expect you will do nothing to disrupt my plans, Little Wolf.  It would not be appreciated.”

Despite himself, Fenris shivered at the threat and the memories it called up.  “No, Master, of course not.”

This seemed to satisfy Danarius, and he went back to riding silently.  Fenris’ mind was occupied with his own thoughts.

If they were going to be spending that much time at the Ritune’s mansion, perhaps he could see Grace again.  He owed her an apology - a conclusion he’d come to reluctantly, but was determined to carry out.  After that, perhaps they would find themselves alone, and able to talk further.  In all the daily trials and miseries great and small, the one that was most persistent was loneliness; Grace would be a welcome relief from that, if she would give him the time of day after his behavior when they parted.

Fenris suppressed a sigh.  She would be perfectly within her rights to ignore him completely - who was he, after all?  A slave.  And not just a slave, but one who had taken the gift of her time and attention and thrown it away at the first opportunity.  The most likely outcome would be that Grace had realised how misplaced her interest and attention had been - how could he deserve them, after all? - and would ignore him as everyone else did.

The carriage arrived at the Ritune’s, and Fenris stepped out, looked around, and stood aside for Magister Danarius to exit.  As he fell into step behind his master, a thought occurred to him, and he almost tripped at the sudden flash of blind terror.

What if she didn't ignore him?  What if she, instead, spoke to him?  In front of people?  Or worse, in front of Danarius?  Danarius wouldn't be so wasteful as to kill him for that offense, but he would certainly make Fenris wish for death many times over.  As he dwelt on this terrifying possibility, it seemed more and more likely; after all, the Ritunes didn't keep slaves, how would she know that he should not have even spoken to her?  He couldn't think of any way to ensure her silence without causing more trouble, and he was out of time; the door to the mansion was swinging open before Magister Danarius, and he could see the family gathered in the entry hall to greet them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Fenris had never been so nervous, or so uncertain where to look.  He was terrified that he might catch Grace’s eye, and call her attention to himself; he was terrified that if he didn’t look at her, she would speak to him before he could warn her to stop.

Finally, he settled for a series of quick, hopefully surreptitious glances at the family.  

He saw a young lady who must be Beatrice, dressed beautifully and standing in front of her parents.  She was smiling brightly at Danarius, who was bowing over her hand as she welcomed him.

Magister Ritune looked the part - dressed in mage robes with a full beard and grey hair, he clearly favored the fashions of his profession.  His face lacked the hard lines of Danarius’, he somehow looked more kind - despite clearly being a mage.

Lady Ritune was clearly Beatrice’s mother; she had gleaming gold hair, untouched by grey, and worn in a regal braid twisted on the top of her head to add an illusion of height to her petite frame.

Standing slightly behind these three, and to one side was a young man who could only be Grace’s brother, Tre.  He was well dressed, and clearly no mage - he wore trousers and a well-tailored doublet in a fine material.

To his right, stood a lovely young lady dressed in a blue sapphire gown that caught the light.  She had dark brown hair that she wore half up, and half cascading over her shoulders in heavy curls.  Her gown was high-necked and fit her slender form snugly, showing off subtle curves.  

For a moment, Fenris was confused.  It was only on a second quick glance that he caught her eyes: sapphire, perfectly matched by the color of her gown.  This was Grace.  She had looked nothing like this on the night of the party; that night she had looked downright plain and now… well, no one would call her a beauty, but they wouldn't be simply using her to dance with her sister, either.  He couldn't figure out what had caused the change, but he knew he wouldn't have trusted her at all if she’d looked like this: clearly wealthy, clearly powerful, fashionable and important, there was no way he would have sat on the floor sharing food with this young lady.  And yet… he was pleased to see that someone had recognized her value, no matter how she fared in comparison with her mother and sister.

Just as he tore his gaze away from her, Fenris heard his name.  He looked quickly to where Magister Danarius stood, speaking with Miss Beatrice and her parents.  Danarius was the one who had spoken his name, and was clearly waiting for a response.

“Yes, master?”

“Fenris, when we come to Magister Ritune’s home from now on, I expect you to wait somewhere out of the way, and out of sight.  I will not require your presence while we are here, and I will summon you when I am ready to leave.  Do you understand?”

Fenris was already giving the expected reply, even as he tried to recall what had been said while his attention was fixed on Grace.  The young lady was afraid of him?  He thought that was what had been said.  She was afraid of him, and asked if he could wait elsewhere while the family entertained Danarius.  Clearly, his master had agreed.  

As he stood there, uncertain, Lady Ritune spoke up.

“The butler will be happy to show you a place you can wait comfortably, Fenris.”  She smiled and waved towards the liveried servant standing beside a door.  “You may go with him.”

Fenris bowed, unable to find anything to say, and followed the man from the room.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

In an irony that amused Fenris to no end, the butler showed him silently into the library.  With some dry comments about how the room was comfortable, out of the way, and unused while the family was entertaining, the man left Fenris to his own devices.

Suddenly ordered to spend time in the room where he had taken refuge only days before, Fenris took the opportunity to prowl the room more extensively.  He’d identified two good hiding places, determined the most comfortable of the chairs, located the cushions Grace had used and set one before the fire for himself, and found a narrow window that looked down into a sheltered - and empty - courtyard when the door opened.

Spinning, Fenris tried to calm his racing heart and remember that this time, he was supposed to be here.  When he saw who had slipped into the room, he relaxed slightly.  It was Grace.  She smiled at him, and he offered a tentative smile back before his eyes narrowed.

He was annoyed with her, though he hadn't admitted this to himself until he saw her smile.  Now, it was all he could think of; thoughts of warning, thoughts of apologizing, all fled as she stood there smiling at him until all he could think of was one thing.

“Why is your sister afraid of me?”  He winced, it had come out much harsher - and louder - than he had intended.  Amazingly, Grace’s smile only widened.

“Isn't it wonderful?  It was a brilliant plan, but I didn't have long to pull it off.  I had to be so careful, so she wouldn't realize that I was the one who had told her all those stories.  But it worked perfectly!  I can’t stay long today - I promised Mother I would be right back down - but I wanted to say hello.  I saw you watching me earlier, and I didn't want you to worry: I know I can’t speak to you in front of anyone.”

“You mean… you made her afraid of me?  I know I was upset when you left that night, but I didn't think you disliked me so much?”  Despite himself, he didn't sound angry, he sounded hurt.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace blinked at him, confused and sorry to have been the cause for that note of pain in his voice; when she answered him, she spoke slightly slower as if he were particularly dense.  “Of course I don’t dislike you.  But, if Bea is afraid of you, you get to spend every visit up here.  Away from Danarius, away from the family.  I can get out of most of these things, I thought we could use the time to talk…”  her voice trailed off, and the last bit came out uncertainly.

Fenris was staring at her, and went on staring at her after she fell silent, until Grace was sure she’d messed up.  She’d read too much into their brief conversation and his even briefer trust in her.  

Biting her bottom lip, she looked down, her hands tightening into fists in the folds of her gown.  She’d been foolishly pleased with the gown only this morning - even her mother had looked surprised and told her she was “pretty today” - but now she felt like an impostor.  Clearly, being plain wasn't her only fault; despite what she had always thought - that if she could just be pretty, like her mother or Bea, she would have friends and finally fit in - a new dress and hairdo hadn't solved her problems.

Grace sighed, and turned away.  “Never mind.  I’m sorry to have caused you insult.  Please enjoy the privacy of the library.”

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

She was almost to the door before Fenris found his voice.  “No, wait!”  He was so shocked at his audacity, that he almost didn't say anything further.  Only the certain knowledge that he had hurt her feelings - and would hurt her more by his silence now - gave him the courage to continue.

“I owe you an apology.  Two now, I suppose.  I didn't understand what you had done, I simply thought you had spread the same tales about me that everyone else does.  I should have known better, and I am sorry.  It was a very good plan, and I am pleased that we’ll have time to talk.  I have been hoping we would, and that you would want to.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace closed her eyes, and drew a deep breath, banishing the tears that had threatened to fall before she made it to the door.  It was the longest speech she’d heard from him, and the words combined with the smooth sound of his deep voice were nearly worth the way she’d felt moments ago.  She toyed briefly with the idea of pretending to still be hurt so that he would talk some more, but discarded the thought since she knew he had no experience with such teasing.

Turning back towards him, she smiled instead.  “Yes, I would like that.”  She took several steps back towards him.

“I can’t stay now, but you’ll be back in a few days, and I've already gotten out of that engagement.  I’ll meet you here?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

It was only as the carriage rumbled through the dark towards Danarius’ estate, that it occurred to Fenris to wonder why Danarius was going to all this trouble.  

He certainly didn't need to wed.  Nobles only wed for two reasons - to increase wealth or power, or produce an heir.  Danarius had enough power and wealth that it didn't make sense for him to accumulate more by taking on the constant annoyance of a wife - certainly not one with a loving family nearby, who would take an active interest in her happiness.  As for an heir, Fenris couldn't see that being a draw either - Danarius had plenty of apprentices, and assuming one of them or some more powerful magister didn't kill him and take everything, he could simply select an apprentice to pass his knowledge to.  Granted, Fenris’ knowledge of nobles and magisters was limited, but he couldn't see the sense in this sudden urge to wed.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Her plan worked wonderfully, and over the course of months, it continued to work without a hitch.  

At first, their conversations had been stilted and awkward.  He was uncomfortable in this unexpected role: actually encouraged to express his own thoughts and opinions instead of merely agreeing with the person in power, and slowly learning to trust his companion.  

For her own part, Grace was well aware that there were a number of topics she shouldn’t bring up, and more that she was sure she hadn’t thought of.  Grace’s parents had always been anti-slavery, a very unusual position in their class and culture.  She had heard several conversations (both those she was supposed to hear, and those she eavesdropped on) detailing the reasons for their stance.  Slaves owned nothing; mistreatment was rather common and they had no recourse when treated badly; there was virtually no way for slaves to stop being slaves; they were property and a such had their dignity stripped away; their labor was harsh, the punishments harsher, and on and on.  She tried to avoid bringing up anything having to do with these topics, and shied away from anything else that seemed to bother him.  

At first, this didn't leave her a lot of conversational options, and worrying about the potential pit-falls didn't leave her much attention to spend on the conversation.  Slowly, though, they seemed to get a feel for each other and conversation became easier.  Slowly, too, Fenris relaxed in her presence and seemed to start enjoying the time as something more than relief from Danarius.

Though they talked a lot, a few conversations stood out.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One of the unexpected verbal landmines had shown up early on.  

She had been telling a story of a childhood escapade that she and Tre had gotten into; only the most indulgent of parents would have rescued their disgraced - and dripping wet - offspring from the formal fountain that ended the adventure, let alone given them no more punishment than a stern talking to on the way home.  

Fenris had laughed despite himself at the pictures she painted with her words, when she said something that killed all mirth.  

“Do you have siblings, Fenris?”

It was a perfectly normal question to her; if she’d thought about it beforehand, she might have decided against asking, but her family was so integral a part of her life that she didn’t think twice until she saw the look on his face.

He answered stiffly, “I don’t know.”

That he had answered at all was a surprise - usually that look was followed by stony silence - and she let the surprise carry her further into the dangerous territory.

“You don’t know?  Surely you spent some time with your mother?  If only as a child before you could work?”

He repeated himself in the same stiff tone.  “I don’t know.”

This time, she took the warning, and dropped the subject, but it continued to nag at the back of her mind.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took several visits, before he tentatively introduced a topic that had been puzzling him for quite some time.  

"I don't understand why in the world Master Danarius wants to marry your sister."  He had meant to be cautious about it, but somehow, the question came out bluntly, and he immediately winced, certain she was about to yell at him for his rudeness.

He was surprised and relieved to find that she only suppressed a laugh at his expression.  She grinned, the right corner of her mouth quirking upwards in a way that showed off an unexpected dimple, and her right eyebrow rising.

"You mean, since she's so horrible to look at and awful to spend time with?”

Fenris was floundering for an answer before he realized she was teasing him.  This was a new thing, and he wasn't sure he appreciated her humor, but at least she wasn't mad.

“No, I can see how any number of young gentlemen would be interested in your sister.  She’s smart, lovely, wealthy, and comes from a powerful family.  I just don’t understand why Master Danarius is interested in her.”

Grace’s grin widened.  “You don’t think anyone with more experience would value these traits as well?”

He didn't, actually, but simply stating a flat ‘no’ would only earn him an eyeroll and more of her humor, so he struggled to phrase his answer politely.

“No, it’s just that Master Danarius has wealth and power in abundance.  He has as much companionship as he wants, and if he wants female company he doesn't lack for that either.”

It took her silence and amused expression to remind him that he probably shouldn’t have said that last bit to the prospective bride’s sister, and perhaps not to any female at all.  Before he could attempt to correct the mistake, though, she was answering.

“Well, I could impress you with the long list of skills and abilities that Bea brings to a marriage that wouldn't be provided by wealth, power, or companionship alone, but I suppose that what will really answer your question is this: breeding.”

She waited expectantly, but her information fell on infertile ground, Fenris had no idea what she meant.  After a moment of silence, she shrugged and elaborated.

“She is the daughter of two very powerful mages.  She isn't a mage herself, but she carries the potential.  Quite a bit of it, in fact.  More than enough that the wealthy and powerful magisters would be falling all over themselves to marry her even without her other advantages.”

She seemed to think this was a sufficient explanation, but Fenris still gave her a blank look.  

Grace grinned at him.  “You really are sheltered, aren't you?  She’ll pass that potential on to her children.  Any child of Bea’s will at least have huge mage potential, and most likely a healthy dose mage ability as well.  If the child has a mage for his father as well?  The result will be quite impressive, I assure you.  That’s why all those gentlemen - including Magister Danarius - are courting her, you know.  They all want the assurance of mage-talented offspring.”

Fenris could do nothing more than gape at her, but this time it wasn't due to confusion.  No, he understood all too well now, and the thought terrified him.  

Because Magister Danarius wouldn't just be interested in the magic ability of his children.  No, Danarius wouldn't need to be nearly that patient.  He had already discovered how to use the energy of others to fuel his own spells - Fenris was a prime example of this.  It was his life force that fed power into the lirium tattoos, but it was Danarius who could pull that power to add to his spells whenever he wished to, effectively assuring him power for no cost.  

What would it do to his bride, and what would he tell her, when he pulled the power of her mage potential to fuel his spells?

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes, he introduced the topic, even if his main motivation was to head off her questions.

“What do you do, when you aren't hiding from your parents’ guests?”

The surly question nonetheless earned him a grin, and he marveled at her consistently good temper.

“Oh, you know, this and that.  I ride quite a bit, study when I have to, work at those ‘womanly arts’ my mother insists on when I can’t avoid them further.  Train whenever I can manage it.  Spend time sitting with Bea - more of that lately, actually, I hate the idea of losing her when she gets married.”

Although that last comment was something he had been wanting to pursue for some time, Fenris was distracted by what came before it.  

“Train?  Train in what?”

In reply, she grinned, and bounced to her feet.  Looking around the room, she stepped into the shadow cast by a bookshelf - and disappeared.

Fenris jumped to his feet, and stood gaping at the place where she’d been.  Before he could take more than one halting step towards that shadow himself, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  He spun and stared at Grace, who stood demurely behind him, wearing the broadest grin he’d ever seen on her.  He snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’re a rogue.”  The statement came out sounding less like a revelation and more like an accusation, but her grin never faltered.

“Well, a girl should have a skill, you know.”  Without him noticing when she’d done it, she drew a knife (and from where, he had no idea), and flipped it into the air, catching it deftly.  He never took his eyes off her, and he still wasn’t sure where the knife disappeared to before she raised both - empty - hands.

Fenris muttered something under his breath; at her curious look he shook his head.  After a moment, he asked, “Where did you learn that?  I can’t imagine your mother approves.”

It was Grace’s turn to glare now.  “She doesn't know, thank you very much, and I’d like to keep it that way.”  Before he could protest - who would he tell, after all? - she was continuing.  “Tre is supposed to be taking the lessons, but he would rather be a warrior - he doesn't like ‘skulking around.’  Since the master didn't know his pupil was supposed to be his employer’s son, I just told him that Tre was short for Tralena.”  At his doubtful look, she shrugged.  “It didn't take long for the truth to come out, but since Tre was training with the guards, and I was getting good reports, Father let things continue.  The lessons stopped when we moved here, though.”

He ran his eyes over her, appreciating anew her lithe form and the subtle muscles he’d seen but dismissed.  Then he brought up something that had been bothering him for awhile.

“I can’t imagine someone who dresses like that as a rogue.  Or anything useful, actually.”  His blunt comment and snide tone had her eyebrows rising, and he winced.  He was getting too comfortable with her, it seemed, if he felt he could vent his temper at her.

She didn't reply to the tone or phrasing, just answered the question he hadn't asked.  “The gowns my mother and Bea spend so much time fussing about bore me.  I used to ignore the whole problem as far as possible, but then I got some good advice on styles and fabrics from a seamstress in town, so I can at least choose things that don’t make me any less attractive than usual.”

Fenris didn't reply, just let the conversation move on the simpler topics.  How could he answer her, after all?  He didn't find her unattractive or even plain; with the new gowns she was quite pretty, actually.  But he couldn't say such a thing, and to say anything else would be a lie.  For who would want such a compliment from a slave?  He was unable to offer her any more than words; surely even Grace would reject compliments he had no way to act on from a worthless slave.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grace wasn't the only one who had to be careful in their conversations.  Fenris managed to insult her fairly often at first; his blunt speech and moody temper didn't lend themselves to polite conversation.  Grace was fairly easy going though, and much to his own surprise, he never drove her away.  Sometimes, he wished he could.

About six weeks into their meetings, she greeted him upon his arrival at the library with a grin and the observation, “The courtship seems to be going fairly well.”

Before he thought overmuch, Fenris snorted.  “I can’t imagine how Master Danarius has managed to make himself agreeable so consistently for so long.”

He nearly bit his tongue off when he realized what he had said.  Grace didn't seem upset, but she was wearing an expression which suggested he’d sprouted an extra head.

“Made himself agreeable?  I don’t think it was that much of a stretch, Fenris.”  When he just stared at her, not sure how to go continue the conversation, she added, “I understand that your experience of him is rather different, but I assure you he is a very decent sort of person.”

She was so earnest, and so wrong, that he was speechless.  She misunderstood his silence, though, and continued, “Oh, I know it’s wrong to keep slaves, but it is accepted around here, you know.  I can’t imagine he’s much better than most on that front.  But really, Fenris, he’s been quite kind and decent to all of us - and he’s been devoted to Bea.”  

Grace watched with concern as a sick look spread across Fenris’ face.  “Please don’t worry about it, Fenris.  My parents checked into Danarius’ reputation extensively when Bea showed an interest in him.  They wouldn't let Bea get attached to anyone who wasn't suitable.  His works for charity especially impressed them, and his few indiscretions are in the past.  He’s really been a model citizen for years.”

Fenris had no answer to give her, and eventually his stubborn silence annoyed her enough that she turned her attention to a book for the rest of the visit.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Have you had much training with that -” with a nod towards the greatsword leaning against the wall behind him “- or is it mostly for show?”

Fenris snorted a laugh.  “Trust me, no one would trust a man with a sword like that if he didn't know how to wield it well enough not to accidentally cut off his own head.  Or someone else’s.”

She gave the grin that was already familiar to him: one corner of her mouth quirking upwards and the same eyebrow rising slightly.  “I suppose that is an excellent thought.”  

She didn't pursue the topic, nor bring up something else, so eventually he prompted, “Why do you ask?”

She replied absently, “It just seems odd to me.  Where did you get the training?”

His tone went flat, but to her surprise, he still answered.  “Master Danarius hired an expert to train me.  His teaching was direct, and brutal, but effective.  When I had learned all I could from him, he was dismissed.  I am now expected to maintain my skills and forms on my own.”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and watched his face as she asked carefully, “Would you say you’re good with it?”

He nodded, not bothering with false modesty.  “I am.”

She smiled briefly at that assertion but didn't tease him about his ego, she was too busy trying to feel her way through this minefield of a conversation.  “It seems odd to me that Danarius would give you something like that.”

Fenris snorted again.  “Give?”

She waved a hand impatiently.  “I know you did the work, but do you know what that sort of training would cost?  Tre has been training, and the sort of master you’re talking about would be a serious investment.”

Fenris shrugged, obviously unimpressed.  “I don’t know, but I am not particularly interested in it, either.  He gets what he wants - I look scary and I can protect him physically if he needs or desires my efforts.  Why would it matter how much Danarius invested in his pet?”  

He spat the last word, and Grace’s eyes narrowed.  She hated that term and all it’s connotations; normally she would have argued the point with him, but for now she refused to be distracted.

“Think about it though - he’s given you a gift of great worth, one that he can never take back.”  

He was getting annoyed with the conversation now, she could tell even before he snapped at her.  “Why would he want to take it back?”

She shrugged, and answered quietly, her eyes finding and holding his.  “He wouldn't want to give you something you could take with you if you ever left.”

Fenris’ breath caught.  The audacity of that statement, and the sheer naivety, took him by surprise.  Before he could find anything to say, he felt Danarius’ magical summons.  It seemed best to simply stand, retrieve his sword and make her a short bow, before leaving without another word.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The Ritune household was in an uproar, and had been for weeks.  The much anticipated wedding of Beatrice Ritune to Magister Danarius was only two weeks away; the bride and her mother were constantly thinking of new things that had to be done, old things that had to be removed, and recently completed things that had to be changed.

Magister Ritune had locked himself in his study.  Aside from those times when his future son-in-law came to dine with them, he didn't even leave the room for meals.  He allowed either his wife or his daughter to come in to speak with him - but never both at the same time.  He was a man under siege in his own home, with a beautiful and relentless enemy.  Since he rarely argued with his wife and eldest daughter, and never refused to pay for what they ordered, they mostly left him alone.

Trevor Ritune also avoided the fray, rather successfully.  Merely by flirting with every attractive maid, seamstress, kitchen girl, and bridesmaid that entered the place, he guaranteed that his presence was not wanted.  His mother, despairing of anyone getting anything done when he was present, banished him from the estate entirely, and sent him to stay with friends.  He went quite willingly.

Grace was not nearly so fortunate as her father and brother.  She constantly found herself pulled away from one activity and ordered into another “of utmost importance.”  Inevitably, before she could complete that new task, she was pulled away and sent off to work on something else.  She rolled her eyes, did as she was bid, and employed every bit of stealth she possessed in avoiding her mother and sister.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Magister Danarius had been walking around with an unbelievable smug expression on his face ever since the party at which his betrothal to Beatrice Ritune had been announced.  It was the first such event that Fenris had attended in quite some time, since Beatrice’s wishes had been indulged at all their other meetings.  On this occasion, however, Danarius had been interested in a show of as much power as he could manage, and Fenris was key to that desire.  

No one had been terribly thrilled with his presence.  Beatrice was still nervous around him, and kept glancing at him over her shoulder.  The other guests had been properly awed, and resented it.  Danarius didn't get the full attention from his betrothed as he had hoped for, which was to have been another part of his show.  Grace had shot Fenris a look full of resignation that told him she would rather have been occupying her family’s library with him.

And Fenris had been unexpectedly on edge all night, watching Grace dance with one partner after another.  She even seemed to be enjoying herself, which made it much worse.  By the time the party was half over his jaw ached from how tightly he’d been clenching his teeth, he had a headache from glowering at everyone in the room, and he had more than a passing acquaintance with the insane wish that he knew a few steps and could ask her to dance.  

Grace was enjoying the unexpected attentions.  Her parents had hosted two other parties since she had started visiting the seamstress in town, but she hadn’t stayed long enough at either of them to notice the difference her new gowns made; she preferred to spend the evenings in the library talking with Fenris.  Tonight though, her mother had made it clear that her presence was required the entire party; even if it hadn't been, Fenris was attending Magister Danarius the whole evening, which robbed the library of a good portion of it’s charm.

So it was that Grace found herself with more invitations to dance than she’d previously received at all such gatherings combined.  It was certainly pleasant, and clearly pleased her mother, but she still wished she could escape for quiet conversation with Danarius’ brooding bodyguard.  The wedding would occur soon enough, and rob her of his presence entirely.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The night before her wedding, Bea came into Grace’s room with a tentative smile on her face and her hands twisting together nervously.  Grace set her book down, and patted the bed next to her in invitation.  Bea sat willingly enough, but then just stared at the covers in silence.

“Happy wedding-eve?”  Grace offered the comment tentatively, as she wondered what was bothering her sister.

Bea just smiled.  “Yes, indeed.  Tomorrow is the big day, and everything will change.  I am looking forward to it, but…”  Her voice trailed off and she looked at Grace.  “I am worried that I won’t have any friends.  Magister Danarius keeps mostly to himself, and his estate is rather out of the way.  I know he cares for me a great deal, but he can’t spend all his time entertaining me.  I believe I shall be quite lonely.”  

Grace bit her bottom lip thoughtfully.  She had thought the same thing, but neither her mother or sister had been interested in her opinion so she had kept it to herself.  Now, though, she simply wanted to ease her sister’s mind.

“I’m sure it will be quieter than here, but it won’t be all that bad.  Magister Danarius’ estate isn’t so far away that your friends won’t visit you, and you know mother will barely be able to resist visiting you daily.  Besides, you’ll have duties of your own to see to, ordering that large household.”

Bea nodded.  “I know, but I still wish I might have a companion.  I mentioned it to Mother, and she thought it might help.”  She looked up at Grace, and spoke in a rush.  “Would you come with me?  To stay, I mean.  I know how much Mother pesters you, don’t you think you’d be happier away from here?  Magister Danarius has a large library, you know.”

As Bea went on listing the advantages of her invitation, Grace stared at her in shock.  She had never even considered such a thing, and here Bea was, practically begging her to go along with the solution to her most recent concern.  To live in the same place as Fenris?  To have the possibility of speaking with him each day?  Not to mention the slightly less pressing concerns of being the sole focus of her mother’s matrimonial intentions and missing her sister.  She would have spent quite some time on happy reflections of the possibilities, if it weren’t for the fact that her sister was still trying to persuade her to accept.

“Bea, slow down!  Of course I’ll come with you.  I have also been dreading the thought of not seeing you as often.  If Mother and Father agree to it, and Magister Danarius doesn’t mind, I’ll happily go with you, for as long as you wish.”

Her sister was thrilled and left shortly thereafter to obtain permission from their parents.  Grace settled back in her bed, her mind spinning with the possibilities.  And all the while, the thought of getting to know Fenris better - of perhaps becoming more than just a friend to him - wove itself through her mind, until the possibilities turned into expectations, and expectations into plans, and she drifted into happy and hopeful dreams.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It didn't take very long for Bea to settle into her new life at Danarius’ estate.

Magister Danarius spent most of his mornings in his work room, leaving Bea to see to the ordering of the estate.  She spent her time organizing slaves and servants alike, making the standards she expected them to maintain clear, and going over her new domain.  The afternoons were usually spent similarly, unless Danarius joined them for lunch or concluded his work early.  They always dined as a family, and after supper Bea and Danarius would retire to their suite, leaving Grace to her own devices.

Grace settled in well enough, but found the situation not at all to her liking.  Danarius had no interest in flattering and pleasing her, and therefore had no qualms about denying her access to most of the mansion.  Further, she discovered that her hopes for getting to spend time with Fenris were in vain; she rarely saw him, and never without Danarius present.

The sisters were, much to Grace’s surprise, growing apart.  Though they had both always agreed with their parents’ anti-slavery views, Bea was beginning to think differently.

“I don’t think it’s such a bad idea after all, Grace.”  She told her sister one day over lunch.  “It’s always so frustrating when one trains a servant to do a job well, and when that servant leaves you have to start all over again.  With slaves, that doesn’t happen; when you train one, your effort doesn't go to waste.”

Grace stared at her sister.  “But to own another human being?  To control their life and not give them any say in it?  Bea, that’s not right.”

“And how much say do servants truly have?  To be sure, they can choose who they work for, but it isn't as if they could stop working - they haven’t the means or the skills.  No, I agree with my husband on this matter, ‘tis a very practical way of managing things.”

There was no argument that Bea would listen to against Danarius, so Grace was forced to let the matter drop.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

When they had lived at Danarius’ estate for about six weeks, Grace decided it was high time she did something about Fenris.  She had barely seen him in all the weeks previous, and never alone.  Further, it was as if none of their previous conversations had happened: he was silent and withdrawn, keeping his eyes lowered and not even exchanging a surreptitious glance with her behind Danarius’ back.  It took some doing, but she finally managed to discover where his room was, and determined to lay in wait for him there after supper.  She knew that Bea objected to his presence as strongly as ever, and that he always found himself dismissed for the night when she and Danarius retired.

Grace left supper before the others by the simple expedient of pleading a headache and forgoing dessert.  Glancing carefully around the hallways, she made her way quickly to Fenris’ room and slipped inside.  She hadn't been surprised by the lack of a lock on his door, but she was rather surprised by the starkness of his room.  

A small chamber, it had a bed, armor stand, and a wardrobe, and nothing more.  She slipped into the corner between the wardrobe and the wall, and waited.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It wasn't long before the door opened again and someone else slipped inside.  Grace almost stepped out of her corner, before realizing that the someone else wasn't Fenris; it was Danarius’ apprentice, Hadriana.  She hadn't spent much time around Hadriana; the woman didn't dine with the family, and she didn't spend any time in the rooms that Bea preferred and Grace was limited to.  Grace watched with narrow eyes as Hadriana made herself comfortable on Fenris’ bed, and waited.

After perhaps fifteen more minutes, the door opened again, and Fenris stepped into the room.  He froze as soon as he caught sight of Hadriana on his bed.  When she motioned him forward, he took several reluctant steps into the room before stopping and refusing to go further.  Hadriana closed the door with a gesture and smiled.  It was not a nice smile, and the slow, deliberate way in which she slid off the bed and walked toward him was enough to make Grace nervous.

Hadriana started walking slowly around Fenris, Fenris turned so she was never behind him.  When she had walked halfway around him, and stood with her back to the wardrobe, she stopped.

“Well, Little Wolf, how shall you entertain me this evening?  It’s been some time since I had an evening of leisure and I have certainly missed you.”  Her voice reminded Grace of one of the poisons she’d been taught to brew: smooth and almost sickly sweet, but deadly.  Her words were dark, and hinted at things that Grace didn’t want to examine too closely.

“My apologies, Mistress, but I am unable to entertain you this evening.”  Fenris’ voice was flat and tightly controlled.  Grace could see only half his face around Hadriana, but what she could see was equally controlled.  She knew, somehow, that the control hid a hatred for his master’s apprentice that would have sent the woman screaming in fear if she’d been able to hear it.

Hadriana’s control was not nearly as good as Fenris’.  She glared, and her voice took on an edge sharper than the greatsword resting on Fenris’ back.  “Just what do you mean by that, slave?  You think you can deny me?  Just wait until I tell Danarius about this; you’ll be begging to do my bidding in less time than it takes to tell the tale.”

Fenris refused to rise to the bait.  “I am sorry to disappoint you, Mistress, but I must work on my swordplay tonight.  Master Danarius has required my presence in his workroom so often this week, that I’ve had no opportunity to practice my skills.  You are aware that those skills are critical to the defense of our Master.”  His tone was as flat as ever, but Grace fancied she heard the threat in his words.

Apparently, Hadriana thought so as well.  She may not have been foolish enough to ignore it completely, but neither was she willing to be intimidated by a slave.  Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to Fenris.  She reached out, and trailed her fingers lightly over the lyrium tattoos on the back of his hand.  Grace heard Fenris catch his breath, and was quite startled to see the tattoos blaze with a blue light that followed the course of Hadriana’s fingers.

“Well, I suppose that if you have other duties to see to, I’ll have to entertain myself tonight.  However, I think we’ll play a little game first, just so my trip down here isn't wasted.  I’m going to light up these lovely tattoos for you, and you’re going to remain silent and not phase.  We’ll see who gives up first.”  

Hadriana didn't give Fenris any more warning than that before she was running her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder.  He was absolutely still, though the hand that Grace could see was balled into a fist; his jaw was clenched and he wore a fierce scowl.  

For a time, Hadriana amused herself with moving her fingers slowly over the lyrium tattoos on Fenris’ arms and shoulders, then she walked around behind him and did the same on his back.  Her posture was relaxed, but the look of cruelty on her face showed that she was putting at least as much effort into her “game” as Fenris was.

As the minutes passed, Grace noticed a change in the effects of Hadriana’s touches.  Where before the light had faded rather quickly after her fingers had passed, now the lyrium veins were holding their light longer, glowing brighter in the path of Hadriana’s fingers.  This seemed to please her, and she moved back in front of him.

“I think that’s enough practice, don’t you, Little Wolf?  Lets move on to the main event.”  When Fenris just stood there, Hadriana smiled; she removed the chest-piece of his armor and the shirt underneath it, revealing the tattoos that wound down his chest.  Holding up a hand that glowed slightly with mage power, she started again.

It wasn't long before Grace could see the result of this new tactic, even if she didn't understand the cause.  Fenris’ breath was coming in gasps, and though she couldn't see what Hadriana was doing since the woman’s body blocked her view, she could see that the lyrium tattoos on his arms and neck were responding even without direct contact.  Grace bit her lip, watching through tears she wasn't aware of as Hadriana stepped back and folded her arms; Fenris stood there, shaking with the effort of controlling the blue fire that had spread across all the tattoos she could see.

Hadriana’s voice dripped with satisfaction.  “You've done rather well, slave.  I think we’ll stop now, though it should be clear who would have won our little game.”  She made a show of yawning.  “I think I’ll run off to bed, I find I’m rather tired after all.  I hope you enjoy your sword practice.”  Without another word, she turned and left.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace didn't know what to do.  She had no way to help, she didn't know what would make things worse, and she didn't really want him to know she’d seen Hadriana’s cruel game.  

For a moment, she stared at more of Fenris than she’d ever seen before.  She had known he was strong, but actually seeing the smooth expanse of his torso and the smooth muscles beneath it was far different than simply knowing they were there.  Grace briefly entertained a crazy desire to run her own hands over his chest, and wipe away the stain of Hadriana’s touch.

Before she could decide what to do next, the light of the lyrium tattoos dimmed, and Fenris turned and stumbled towards his bed.  He sat down at the head of it, he back in the corner, and pulled his knees up until he could wrap his arms around them.  He dropped his head onto his knees and simply sat there, shaking, as blue fire pulsed along the lyirum burned into his skin, and slowly faded.

This sight was more than Grace could stand; before the thought was even half-formed, she had left her hiding place and crossed the room, kneeling on the floor next to his bed.  She carefully kept her hands to herself; both because she didn’t know what effect her touch would have on the lyrium, and because she felt that any touch now would be unwelcome.

Fenris’ head jerked up when she had knelt next to the bed; his eyes went wide with shock at the sight of her.  

“What are you doing here?  Come for a bit of a show?  Or did you want to be entertained as well?”  He used a hate-filled tone she’d never heard before; between that and the sneer on his face, she almost left right then.

Instead, she took a deep breath, and met his gaze calmly.  “I came to talk; I've missed our conversations these past weeks.  I hid when Hadriana came in, I didn't know what else to do.  I’m not sure what she did, exactly, but I’ll help if I can.”

“Your pity is misplaced, there is nothing you can do.”  He wrenched his eyes away from hers, and lowered his head to rest on his knees again.  “Just go; I don’t wish to see you and I’m not here to keep you amused.  You must have better things to do than talk to a slave; it suited well enough when my Master was courting your sister, but I don’t see the point in it now.  If I lose control of the lyrium and phase, Danarius will know.  If I lose control, the magic Hadriana poured into these markings will hurt anyone near me.  You’re distracting me.  Go away.”

It was an ugly speech, the words carefully chosen to wound her and the tone in which he delivered them designed to sending her running from him forever.  

On someone else, it might have worked.  Grace had spent their conversations learning his body language, though - he said so little, it was all she had to go on most times; she’d combined a natural talent for reading people with an intense interest in him specifically, and learned quite a lot.  Now, although his words were quite clearly telling her “get away from me forever,” his posture was saying something else entirely.  Even though she knew better, she clearly felt the attack of his words.

Grace took a deep breath, pushed aside the hurt that his words caused, and spoke softly.  

“Fenris.”

She didn't say anything else, just waited.  When a few moments had passed without any response, she said his name again.

“Fenris.”

She watched his shoulders tighten as he fought the urge to look at her, and managed a brief smile.  The smile died as she watched the pulsing of the lyrium in his tattoos and the way he was shaking more now that he wasn’t taking his anger and hurt out on her.  She sighed softly, and tried again.

“Fenris.”

She put all her care for him into that single word, and all the subtle strength that she possessed.  Although she’d spoken barely louder than a whisper, there was a solid weight to his name when she spoke it, a feeling of unshakable calm, that called to him.  It was that which made him raise his head reluctantly and meet her eyes.

She held his gaze, knowing that he wouldn't be comfortable with eye contact for long.  She’d never forced the issue before, but now wasn't the time to tip-toe around him.  When he would have looked away, she tipped her head and caught his eyes again.  When she was sure he wouldn't go back to ignoring her, she held out her hand.

His eyes jumped down to the hand she offered, then back to her face.  She gave him the slightest smile, a small flick of her eyebrow, and waited.  Slowly, he reached out and took her hand.  As soon as he had that contact, his eyes skipped back to hers.  She nodded once, and offered her other hand as well.

He didn't hesitate as long to accept it, and when he held both her hands in his, he felt her calm wash over him.  It helped.  He clenched her hands tightly and looked back into her eyes; she looked back steadily, not even flinching when his lyrium flared and buzzed along her skin as well.

Slowly, the light died from the lyrium markings.  Even more slowly, his shaking faded until he was sitting, motionless except for his gasping breaths, anchored by Grace’s hands clenched tightly in his and her eyes watching him steadily.

He released her hands reluctantly, and closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward to rest on his knees and hoping his hair hid his face.  Grace leaned back, taking advantage of being unobserved to shake feeling back into her fingers.  She stood up, wincing slightly at the pins and needles feeling in her legs; she wasn't sure how long she’d knelt there but it had clearly been quite some time.

Grace looked down at Fenris, slightly surprised when he looked back up at her.  His eyes were red, his face lined with exhaustion, but he practically hummed with a tension that she knew would prevent sleep.  She had no idea what to do next.  She had changed their relationship from a tentative friendship to something that went much deeper.  She’d seen things she knew he wouldn't want her to; and given help that he would find hard to accept.

Grace pushed aside the questions she wanted to ask him, ignored the look of embarrassment that was creeping slowly across his face, pushed aside her own discomfort and fear at the feeling that she had forced a different relationship than he was interested in, and walked over to where Hadriana had dropped his shirt and chest plate.  She picked them up and tossed them at him.

“Come on, lets go get some practice in.  I could use the workout.”

Somehow, it was the right thing to say.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The weapons practice had been a great idea, and not only because Grace had found a way to spend time with Fenris.  The long evenings after Danarius and Bea retired were now spent in the training yard, and she was greatly enjoying having a chance to spend time with him, but the real benefit was entirely for Fenris.

He was a far better with his chosen weapon than she ever would be with hers.  She didn't know if it was aptitude, training, or merely that he enjoyed his swordwork more than she would ever enjoy using her knives; but the result was that Fenris often found himself in the role of trainer, and the difference to his self confidence was amazing.  

He wasn't acting any differently around others, but when it was clear when they were alone together.  He didn't watch her with the fearful caution he’d used before; he didn't wait for her to make the first move or suggestion; he sometimes spoke first; he was even criticizing her performance in a way he never would have dared to do before.  He was actually a rather good trainer, he made each step very clear to her and continued to challenge her growing skills.

Which was why Grace found herself dripping with sweat, bent over and gasping for breath, both hands stinging from when he’d disarmed her just a moment before.

“Come on, Grace, it shouldn't be _this_ easy!  What have you been doing with your days?  Sitting around that fancy parlor?  You’re getting soft.”

Grace scowled and glared at him, and almost ruined the effect by practically cheering when he scowled back instead of retreating.  “Yes, thank you, I have been sitting in that fancy parlor.  And yes, I know I’m soft.  But really, what’s the point in killing myself over this?  It’s a hobby, just something I do so I’m not completely defenseless.”

He snorted.  “The point is so someone else doesn't kill you.  This isn't a game.  Poor training is worse than none at all - you know that.  Rest period is over, lets do it again.”

Grace shot him a glare, but smiled as she went over to pick up her daggers from the ground near him.  He may be a good trainer, but he often forgot a key point: she was not just a fighter who used knives, she was a rogue.

He was standing there calmly - wearing a slight smirk to be honest - letting his sword rest casually on the ground in front of him, both hands folded over the hilt.

Grace walked past him to pick up her knives, then around behind him.  Sheathing her knives, she moved up on his left side and before he realized she was there, she used her right foot to kick the point of his sword to one side, causing him to drop it.  When he turned to her with a look somewhere between surprise and anger, she kicked the great sword again to get it out of the way, hooked her right leg around his, and tackled him, carrying them both to the ground.

She would have landed on top, pinning him, but Fenris was quick enough to turn them so neither had the advantage.

“That was a dirty trick, Grace.”

She just grinned, unrepentant.  “Rogue.”

The following scuffle went on for quite some time; he was strong, and not completely unskilled at hand-to-hand combat, but she was quicker, and had more skills at her command.  They finally called it a draw when the moon was high in the sky, indicating they’d spent far more time than they usually did on practice.

When they had dusted themselves off and collected whatever random bits of equipment had become lost in the course of the evening, Grace made her way to the gate that lead out of the training yard.  Fenris sheathed his sword and then walked over to join her, and she gave him a tired smile.  She was just turning to open the gate when Fenris’ hand on the latch stopped her.  She looked at him in surprise.

“Will you teach me some of those moves?”  He sounded very reluctant to ask it of her, so she hid the smile that threatened to escape.

“Of course.  It seems a fair trade, and I’ll be pleased to get a break from your tender training methods.”

He made some response, she was sure, but she had just noticed that he was standing closer to her than he usually did, and she couldn’t look away from his bright green eyes.  

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Fenris released the gate, letting it swing open, and waited for Grace to go through.  When she didn’t, he looked at her questioningly, and found himself caught by her gaze.  She didn’t often make eye contact.  From the time they met, she had seemed to know how uncomfortable it made him; ever since _that night_ with Hadriana when she had seen far more than he wanted her to, and helped him in the wake of it, she had made even more of a point of avoiding his eyes.  Now, though, she was staring, motionless, and he couldn’t manage to look away.

Until she kissed him.  That shook him out of the spell of her gaze very quickly, and he froze as his thoughts spun into panic.  What was she thinking?  Did she expect repayment for teaching him hand-to-hand combat moves?  He had thought she was his friend - his only friend - and let his guard down against the sort of demands that females made on him.  This was the last thing he would have expected of Grace, but there she was, her lips pressed to his.  Finally, the barest hint of a thought - _this was actually rather nic_ e - crossed his mind before she stepped away.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Grace hadn’t planned on kissing Fenris, but she couldn’t resist the opportunity.  Her feelings for him had been growing ever since they met, and grew faster as he found a measure of confidence in her presence.  She had hoped it wouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, but given the way he went stiller than if he’d been turned to stone, she suspected it had.

When even a little bit of persistence didn’t get any response, Grace stepped away and looked at him.  He looked shocked, and not happy about it - in fact, he was looking at her as if she’d just kicked his puppy.  Her face turned bright red as she backed through the gate.  When he still didn’t move, she muttered an apology, and fled.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Grace managed to hide in her room for three days.  She told Bea that she had a headache and stomach ache; both were true, though she wasn't ill.  The stomach ache came from going over that last look on Fenris’ face after she’d kissed him; he had looked betrayed, unhappy, and not in the least bit interested in her.  The headache came from staying up nights alternately calling herself a fool for ruining their friendship, calling herself a fool for losing her heart to someone who didn't want it, and calling herself a fool for acting on her feelings instead of waiting for Fenris to give some indication of his.  

It was not a fun three days.

Try as she might though, she couldn't shake her feelings.  Even knowing that he didn't feel the same way, and didn't seem to want to feel the same way, she couldn't let go of the dreams she’d built up.  She had always had an active imagination, and had painted pictures for herself of Fenris falling in love with her; she had imagined them fleeing Danarius and making their way to some place where they could settle quietly and live their lives in peace.  Together.  And that was the part that came back to bite her every time, because even if she could find a way for Fenris to be free, he wouldn't want to be free with her.

Her mind spun in unsatisfying circles, and she hid in her room.  She knew Bea would grow worried or suspicious soon enough, but she couldn't bring herself to care.  She tried to come up with some sort of explanation to give to her sister, but she had always had more trouble misleading Bea than Trey.  

When a quiet knock came on her door, she still didn't have a solid story ready.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Fenris’ only relief over the next three days was that Master Danarius was so wrapped up in some sort of research, that he left his slave largely alone.  Fenris stood guard over his Master, but he wasn't required to do much of anything; this left him plenty of time to go over the thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.

Grace had kissed him.

At first, he thought she was just a bit more subtle and a lot more patient than Hadriana; he liked that idea because it allowed him to be angry at her, it justified his own lack of trust in her, and it upheld his often repeated belief that no free person would ever look at a slave as anything other than a tool to be used.  It wasn't fair to Grace though, because when he was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't true.

Although Fenris hadn't known much about reading expressions and body language before - except as much as he needed for survival - after all the time he’d spent with Grace, he was now fairly adept at it.  He had been surprised by this, and even more surprised that his proficiency wasn't limited to Grace; he could read quite a few people rather dependably.  The skill had proven useful around Master Danarius and Hadriana - both liked to vent their anger at him or take advantage of him in some other way; knowing what was coming had at best allowed him to deflect or distract that behavior, and at worst prepared him a bit for what lay ahead.

When he thought back to the end of the evening with Grace, he remembered the way she’d acted - her sudden attack hadn't been planned, simply something she’d decided and acted on in the spur of the moment.  And then, when she did move away, he had seen her searching look, and the defeat and embarrassment in her eyes before she turned away.  Even more telling was the fact that she hadn't appeared at meals or for their late night practices since.

Slowly, Fenris’ anger gave way to guilt; guilt for thinking so poorly of her, and guilt for hurting her feelings.  He knew he couldn't be involved in a relationship; as much as he hated hurting Grace, and was loathe to deny her the only thing she’d asked of him, he was certain that any kind of romantic relationship between them would spell trouble.

The guilt soon turned to concern when she didn't show up for their evening sparring practices.  After the third time he waited alone in the practice ring, Fenris decided to check on her, and made his way to her room.

The whole way there, his nerves sang with tension.  If he were found in this part of the estate, he would be in big trouble; if he were discovered speaking with Grace, his punishment would be severe and Grace would mostly likely be in trouble as well.  He had to check on her, though, and make sure he hadn't ruined the only friendship he had.  

He was shaking with nervous energy by the time he reached her room and knocked quietly on her door.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grace called out a tired, “come in” in response to the quiet knock on her door.  She fully expected Beatrice, so she didn't bother to move from her seat in front of the window in her room.  When she didn't hear any movement following her answer, she turned to look, and was quite surprised to see Fenris standing only a few feet away from her; he’d slipped into her room and crossed the distance between the door and her chair without making a sound.  Her surprise quickly died in the rush of color to her cheeks; she had no idea what to say to him - no idea if she should apologize or try to convince him to give her a chance.  Her tongue tied, she simply stared at him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

He’d been hoping she would start.  Now that he was standing in the room facing her, it seemed the like nothing more than pride to think she had been avoiding him.  She had dark circles under her eyes, and sitting in the large chair with her feet drawn up, she had a fragility he’d never seen before.  She seemed entirely surprised to see him, and finally her silence drove him to start talking.

“I, um… I wanted to make sure you were ok.  You haven’t been at meals or out to practice?”  Fenris hated the way his voice rose at the end, making a question of his statement.  Wanting to cover that error, he cleared his throat roughly and added, “I didn't expect you to ignore a promise.”

Grace bit her lip and looked down.  She hadn't even thought of her promise to teach him some of her hand-to-hand methods, she’d been completely focused on the ridiculous risk she’d taken by kissing him.  Instantly, she felt even worse for letting him down.

“I’m so sorry, Fenris.  I thought you wouldn't want to be around me.  Your face the other night, after…”  she trailed off, unwilling to mention the kiss, and not sure what to say about it anyway.  She took a deep breath.  “I shouldn't have pushed you, and I shouldn't have assumed that you would be interested in me.”

Fenris shook his head.  “It isn't that, Grace.  I value your friendship more than I could tell you.  I think you don’t understand the depth of difference between us.  I’m a slave, I am not in a position to engage in a relationship.  You have to understand: I never thought I would have a friend.  To have your friendship has been a most welcome surprise, and one I’m not certain I should indulge in - for your sake or mine.  I am selfish, I suppose, in proceeding anyway.  I can’t justify considering anything else, though.”

Grace had watched his face throughout the entire speech; even though his usual habit was to fix his gaze on a point over her shoulder, he had made the effort to meet her eyes while he was speaking.  She appreciated the effort, even though it made letting go of her wish for more difficult.

She studied him for several minutes, and was both proud and sad when he maintained eye contact the whole time.  Finally, she nodded.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.  I don’t wish to give up our friendship, either.  Can we try again?”

She was relieved when he agreed; after talking for a short time longer, he left her with the admonition to get some sleep.  

 

Grace went to bed, and was sleeping well for the first time in days when the bright light of early morning brought her sister.

“Oh, Grace, I do hope you’re feeling better!  I have such exciting news!  Danarius has to make a trip, and he’s agreed to take us with him!  We’ll be making several stops, but we’ll get to go on a ship!  Our last stop is in Seheron.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Magister Danarius’ trip turned out to be both wonderful and terrible in Grace’s opinion.  Wonderful, because it offered her much more time in Fenris’ company; terrible because that extra time made letting go of her feelings so much more difficult.

It was exactly what she had expected that Magister Danarius stayed only in the best inns while they traveled.  Expensive, luxurious, discreet, everything a magister would expect while away from his own home.  Bea took to this new level of pampering as easily as if she’d never been subjected to anything else.  

Grace was slightly less comfortable in these new surroundings, but she did find something to appreciate - away from slaves who knew exactly what was and was not supposed to occur, she and Fenris had much less to worry about from an ill-timed sighting.  The slaves and servants here not only didn't know for sure that Fenris should have been nowhere near Grace, they had no reason to bring it up if they did see him speaking with her.  This offered a level of security they’d never had before; as a result, her conversations with Fenris started earlier and lasted longer than ever before.  Even as she reveled in his company, Grace found herself struggling with it.

It wasn't fair to call herself his friend when she wanted something else.  She didn't agree with his reasons for avoiding a deeper entanglement, but she had to respect his decision.  She spent her nights enjoying his company, and her days trying to stamp out any feelings that didn't fall into the “friendship” category.  Since most nights brought new reasons to admire him, it was frustrating in the extreme.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

They traveled at a gentle pace along the Imperial Highway, stopping at predetermined locations whose significance was known only to Danarius.  He spent most of his days in libraries or laboratories, clearly searching for something.  They mostly stayed at inns, although occasionally they stayed at the estate of someone Danarius knew.  The plan was to make their way to the port city Eyes of Nocen, and cross the Ventosus Straights before making their way to Seheron.  

They were less than a week away from Eyes of Nocen when they stopped at an estate owned by a mage who had once been Danarius’ mentor, Magister Bremenn.  Danarius had been pushing them for several days to get here sooner; they’d stayed on the road long past dark, grabbed a quick bite of supper before going to bed, and started again at dawn.  Magister Danarius had attempted to placate Bea and Grace with the promise of staying for nearly a week at Magister Bremenn’s estate, he meant to try some new things with his previous mentor and most of the information he’d gathered along the way had been collected for this purpose.  

Bea was clearly unhappy with the lack of care for her comfort that her husband was showing, and the promise of further neglect while he spent his time with Magister Bremenn made the week-long break from traveling less than appealing to her.  Grace hadn't thought about it one way or the other, except that the arduous traveling schedule had left her less time to speak with Fenris than she’d grown accustomed to.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

They arrived at Magister Bremenn’s estate in the late afternoon, were greeted warmly, and quickly shown to rooms where they might rest and refresh themselves before supper was ready.  

Supper was a grand affair; Magister Bremenn seemed inordinately pleased to see his former student, and Danarius was equally pleased to be showing off how much his knowledge and power had grown in the years since they’d last met.  Following supper, the conversation grew more and more technical.  Finally, Bea and Grace made their excuses and escaped to Bea’s room.  After a brief chat, Bea stated her intention of going to sleep early to make up for the lost sleep during their journey and Grace returned to her own room.

She read for a short time in a comfortable chair near her bed.  Then, fully expecting Fenris to be stuck standing guard over Danarius and Bremenn for most of the night as they continued their conversation, Grace changed into a comfortable nightgown and went to bed.  

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

She woke up suddenly some time later, and rolled over to look at the clock standing on the bedside table; it was shortly after 2am - she’d been asleep for just under two hours.  Laying still, she wondered what had woken her up.  No sound reached her room, no movement disturbed the shadows cast by the full moon shining through her window.  

Grace decided to get a drink of water and try to go back to sleep, so she tossed the covers back and sat up.  Her action triggered motion in the tall backed chair beside the bed, drawing her attention.  

Black leather armor blending into the shadows, white hair blending into the moonlight that pooled in the room, a trained stillness she couldn't hope to match; she had overlooked him in her quick scan of the room, but when she moved he raised his head.  

Grace started to smile - she hadn't expected to see him tonight - but when she focused on his face, the smile died.  She scrambled out of her bed and crossed to the chair quickly, kneeling in front of him and putting a hand on his knee without thinking.  When he flinched away from her, she pulled her hand back but didn't move away.

“Fenris, what’s wrong?  Has something happened?”  She hadn't meant to sound frightened, but the way he was staring at her - equal parts lost and haunted - had her speaking in a whisper that did nothing to hide the tremble in her voice.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Fenris didn't know how he’d gotten to Grace’s room; he understood why he had come even less.  Some instinct had brought him here, something deeper than conscious thought.  He’d slipped into her room, and felt slightly better - slightly safer, though he knew that was ridiculous, there was nothing she could do to protect him.  

When he saw that Grace was asleep, he’d been unwilling to wake her; instead he made his way to a chair near her bed and fell into it.  He’d watched her sleep for awhile, trying to absorb the calmness that always surrounded her.  He had been about to leave when his thoughts turned to the events that sent him seeking that calmness in the first place; the harder he tried to keep silent the harder it was, and he’d eventually made a noise that woke Grace.

He took some comfort from the fact that her first reaction to seeing him had been a bright welcoming smile.  Fenris wondered what she saw on his face that had the smile fading so quickly, and knew it couldn't be anything mild.  Nonetheless, she didn't pull away from him; on the contrary, she was kneeling in front of him before he even gave thought to what he’d do if she recoiled.  Then it he who was recoiling, the comfort in her touch had nearly destroyed his control, and he couldn't allow that to happen in front of the only person whose opinion mattered.

Grace didn't seem to mind his reaction, casually removing her hand and instead putting both hands on the arms of the chair as if she’d never meant to do anything else.  

He was surprised by the worry he heard in her voice; despite the  fact that she’d come to him, and tried to offer him comfort, she was clearly shaken by his appearance and behavior.  He knew he had to tell her what had occurred; in some way, he knew that he wanted to tell her, wanted her to be able to offer some help even if he couldn't guess what it would be.

Every time he opened his mouth to tell the tale, though, his throat closed around the words and his mind shied away from the memories.  He glanced briefly at Grace - she still knelt in front of him without moving, her eyes steady on his face.  When he met her eyes, he felt some of her calm wrap around him.  Fenris let his eyes rest on hers, drawing her peace into himself, and tried again.

“I know what Master Danarius has been working on all this time.  It… is not pleasant.”  When she didn't flinch away from him, and didn't interrupt, he tried to continue.  

Again, the words wouldn't come.  As he struggled with what to tell her, his breath came faster and he felt the memories taking over.  He blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Grace’s steady gaze.  Without taking his eyes from hers, he reached out and took her hand.

When her fingers tightened reassuringly around his, he told her everything.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The longer Fenris talked, the harder Grace found it to stay calm.  The things he told her were horrifying, made worse by how little she had expected any of it.  By the time he finished, he was clenching both her hands in his, his eyes were closed and his head bowed, the words pouring out of his mouth with barely any pause between them.  Grace was squeezing his hands as tightly as he held hers, and hoped that her shaking wasn't apparent.

She had not understood exactly the use Danarius made of Fenris; had not had any clue as to why he had branded his bodyguard with lyrium tattoos.  She had dismissed the question early on in their friendship when it became clear that Fenris had no desire to explain things to her.  She had fancied she understood better after the scene with Hadriana - she had assumed that the tattoos amplified Danarius’ power when Fenris was nearby.  She was shocked to find out just how wrong she had been.

The way Fenris described Danarius undertaking spells that he didn't have the ability to control normally and making up for that lack by using the lyrium tattoos to yank raw power from Fenris was bad enough; the thought of what Danarius was doing with those spells was worse.

She realized that Fenris had been silent for some time, and was waiting for her reaction.  Letting out a long, quivering sigh, Grace brought their joined hands to rest on Fenris’ knees, and leaned forward until her forehead rested on his hands.  She had no idea how he would react to what she knew had to be done.  

They couldn't stop Danarius, no one would believe the truth about what was happening.  There was no way that Fenris could interrupt the spells himself without inviting retaliation that she was unwilling to even consider him suffering through for any reason.  

She took a deep breath, calling herself a coward for not meeting his eyes as she spoke.  “There is only one way we can prevent Danarius from succeeding.  You must deny him the power he drains from you.  You must escape, and get far enough away that he can never catch you again.  I hope you’ll permit me to come with you.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Grace was incredibly busy for the remaining time they spent at Magister Bremenn’s estate.  She spent most of her mornings in the magister’s library, studying maps and trade routes, trying to determine the best course for their escape.  The afternoons she spent converting all her own jewelry, and a few pieces of Bea’s which she was sure her sister wouldn't miss, into coins.  She didn't dare stockpile supplies, no matter how much faster it would make their initial flight; she couldn't run the risk of her plans being discovered.

The nights, she spent worrying about Fenris until he arrived in her rooms; the rest of the time was spent telling him everything she’d learned over and over until he memorized it.  She’d discovered early on that he couldn't read and while the knowledge bothered her, she knew he wouldn't accept teaching from her; at the time, it hadn't seemed important.  Now, she sincerely wished she had taken the time to teach him at least some of the basics.  There wasn't time now, so he would have to learn everything she discovered and planned by memory.

She knew he was frustrated, but there was no help for it - his escape was necessary, her presence was a luxury.  She knew that if it came down to a choice between Fenris escaping without her or neither of them getting away, there was really no choice.  

So each night, she repeated the towns along the trade route she planned for them to take.  She repeated their final destination.  She repeated where they could stop for supplies, and where they didn’t dare show their faces.  She repeated what supplies they needed, how much they should expect to pay for them in each place, and how long they should last.  Then, she made Fenris repeat them all back to her.  Each night, she added whatever information she had gained that day, so he was always as well informed as she was.

Despite the urgency and despite the time Grace was putting into her planning, they both knew it was unlikely that they would escape soon.  The best place to get lost in was the port city Eyes of Nocen; the best time was while Danarius was still on Seheron.  

Their plan was wait until they were established at Seheron, then sneak aboard a ship headed for the mainland.  Hopefully, there would be a delay before they were missed, a delay while the immediate area was searched, and a delay before Danarius could follow them on a different ship.

Throughout all the planning, Grace’s main concern was for Bea.  What would she tell her sister?  Bea would most likely be the first to miss her, and the one most intent on finding her.  Grace alternated between picking a fight that would leave Bea avoiding her for days, disappearing without a word, and telling her everything.  Then, something happened that made the decision for her.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Grace, I don’t feel so well this morning.”  Bea looked pale and slightly green, she hadn't even gotten out of bed when Grace came looking for her.

“My goodness, Bea, whatever is wrong?  Not sick of me already, are you?”  

“No, I've just been feeling like I have the flu for several mornings now.  I’d like to rest, instead of getting up today.  You won’t be lonely will you?”  Despite her words, and the fact that she didn't look at all well, Bea was smiling a small, private smile.

Grace was about to answer, when a sudden thought sent a sharp spike of fear through her.  “Bea, you’re not… well, are you sure it’s the flu?  And not…” Grace let the question trail off, not daring to voice her new suspicion.

But Bea was smiling broadly.  “You guessed!  Oh, Grace!  I’m so excited!  Can you imagine?  A baby!  Danarius is so excited, and he said we’ll get the very best care.  I won’t be traveling on the ship with you, because it isn’t safe, but he is arranging with Magister Bremenn for me to remain here while he goes to Seheron.  He said you could stay, but I thought you’d rather go, wouldn't you?”  Grace tried her best to appear happy for her sister, but she just felt cold.

A baby.  The threat to Bea was now greater than ever.  She looked at her sister’s shining face, and knew there was nothing she could say that would protect her, and nothing that would make her see the truth.  

With a sigh, Grace escaped back to her room, and wrote a letter to her parents.  Even if they didn't believe her, it should be enough to make them wary; hopefully when she actually disappeared, whatever story Danarius contrived to explain things would ring hollow against the knowledge she shared with her parents, and lend her some credibility.  It was all she could do.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The passage to Seheron was every bit as exciting as Grace had imagined a sea voyage would be.  For that time, she was able to forget her worries for Bea and her plans for escape with Fenris.  She spent all her time on deck, watching the waves, the clouds, and the activity of the sailors.  To her endless amusement, Magister Danarius had taken one look at the sea, scowled, and locked himself in his cabin.  

Fenris was not as enamoured with the journey as she was, but he too spent most of his time on the deck, never far from her.  He had taken to staying close to her more and more lately, and she had often found his eyes fixed on her face.  

Whether they were going over their plans, pretending to ignore each other, or simply spending quiet time together, she was aware of his gaze and the decreased distance he left between them.  Was it possible that he felt more for her than friendship?  Despite her best efforts, Grace had been unable to conquer her feelings for him, and had settled for burying them.  The hope that he might learn to feel the same way brought those feelings back to the surface; defiantly, she allowed them to remain, and hoped.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Seheron was not really a prime vacation spot.  Whatever had drawn Danarius here was completely unclear to Grace.  It would serve well enough for their purposes, however, since he planned to remain here for at least a week.  

Grace spent her time haunting the docks, trying to find a ship she and Fenris could sneak aboard.  She hated the thought of sneaking aboard without paying, but she couldn’t run the risk of the captain and crew knowing who they transported - Danarius’ wrath when he discovered his slave’s escape would destroy everything in his path.  She thought she had found a perfect choice, however and hastened back to the inn where they were staying to lay her final plans.  She would tell Fenris tonight; the ship sailed on the evening tide two days hence.

That night, Fenris had just slipped into her room and she had hardly had a chance to greet him, when a cry went up and the large bell in the center of the town began to ring.  She went to the window and opened it, letting the sounds of panicking townsfolk into the room.  Grace and Fenris stared at each other in confusion, neither had any idea what the bell meant.

Suddenly, someone pounded on her door, and Grace flew across the room to open it, motioning for Fenris to hide behind the bed.  When he was in position, she opened the door, and was astounded to find the innkeeper standing there.

“Oh good, miss, you’re still up.  You have to hurry - don’t bother packing, just run for the docks!”  

He was turning away, when Grace grabbed his arm.  “But why?  What’s going on?”

The innkeeper stared at her.  “Don’t you know, miss?  It’s a Qunari raid.  They kill everyone they find, and burn the town to the ground.  The guard will try to stop them, but with half the men out on maneuvers, they’re unlikely to manage much.  Make for the docks, miss, and try to get on a ship, it’s your only chance!”  He moved on quickly, rousing the guest in the next room.

Grace turned back into the room, to see Fenris standing up from his hiding place.

“We must go, Grace.  There is no way we can survive a Qunari attack.  We can try to get away from Danarius when we reach the mainland, but there’s no hope for it now.  It’s too big a risk make any new plans here, we can figure out our next move on the ship.  Danarius is coming, hurry!”  

Grace picked up her pack and her coin purse, thrusting the second at him.  “Panic is a breeding ground for thieves and those who would take advantage of the general confusion - I’m more of a target now, so you keep this safe.”

Fenris nodded, concealed the heavy pouch in his armour, and motioned her towards the door.  “Make your way to the courtyard, we cannot be found together.  Do not allow yourself to be alone.  Now go.  Hurry!”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Stepping into the courtyard was like stepping into a hurricane; people shouted and shoved around her, everyone moving in different directions and no one seeming to know where they should go.  The innkeeper stood on the steps of the inn, and shouted for everyone to make their way to the docks.  With a surge, the crowds headed in the correct direction, and Grace found herself carried along with them.  

She was starting to panic herself, unable to find Fenris but unwilling to be caught alone, unsure what to do for one of the first times in her life.  Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm, and she spun, feeling a wash of relief when she saw that the person who had grabbed her was Danarius; behind him, silent as always, was Fenris.  The sight of him calmed her nerves.

“Come this way,” Danarius ordered, “we will get away from these monsters and find ourselves a place aboard a ship headed for the mainland.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Danarius started up the ramp to the ship with Grace and Fenris following.  Before he reached the deck, a large sailor blocked his way.  

“No slaves.”  The flat statement prompted an immediate glower from Danarius.  The sailor didn't budge, just repeated himself.  “There isn't room for everyone as it is.  No slaves.”

“I don’t think you understand.  This slave is more valuable than any other person on that ship.”  Danarius used a tone that cowed everyone he had ever had cause to use it on, and added a glare for good measure.

The sailor was unmoved.  “No slaves.”  

Danarius sighed theatrically, and gestured to Grace.  “The girl will stay behind, my bodyguard may have her place.”  Grace blinked at him in shock, more surprised at his casual manner in condemning her to death than that he would do so at all.

The sailor didn't budge.  “Whether the girl stays or not, no slaves will be allowed on this ship.  Captain’s orders.”

Danarius scowled; he cursed; he threatened.  When the captain came over to see what the problem was, he did all three again.  The captain informed him he could either remain here with his slave, or come aboard the ship without him.  Danarius chose the ship.  

As she followed Danarius, Grace cast a glance over her shoulder at Fenris and nodded toward the aft deck of the ship.  Fenris nodded and went to take up a stance on the dock behind the ship.

....................................................................................................................................................................

Danarius glared impotently over the rail of the ship; the sight of Fenris standing on the dock infuriated him even more than the Qunari raid which had prompted the calamity.  

He assumed he knew why his prized slave was simply standing at the end of the dock, ignoring the Qunari making their way through the town, destroying everything in their path.  It would take some time before their systematic destruction carried them to the docks; plenty of time for Fenris to watch the ship set sail and gloat as his master was carried away while he stood on the dock.

The magister’s glare faltered.  Fenris may have been standing there to gloat about his unexpected freedom, but he wasn't looking at Danarius - his attention was focused somewhere between Danarius and the starboard rail of the ship.  Danarius turned to look, but saw nothing except the confused milling of the other refugees as they tried to stay out of the way of the sailors while still watching the Qunari’s progress through their city.

Suddenly there was a shout.  “A ship!  A ship is coming around the front of the bay!  We’ll be trapped!”  followed by an urgent surge of bodies toward the bow to watch their doom approach.  Danarius wasn't concerned about the approaching vessel, he alone stayed at the rear of the ship.  He was just turning back to glower at his slave when he spotted Grace.

She hadn't joined in the general rush to the front of the ship either; she was instead making her way carefully around the anxious refugees and busy sailors toward the ship’s rail.  A quick glance back at Fenris proved that her progress was what held his attention, and the look on Fenris’ face suggested some new and unwelcome thoughts to his master.

In four quick strides, Danarius reached Grace, grabbing her by the long braid that hung down her back.  With a fluid motion, he had her hair wrapped firmly around his hand and gripped tightly at the base of her skull.  He pulled her back to the railing and yanked on her hair to force her head back and remove any leverage she might have had.

“Were you watching for this stupid girl, Little Wolf?”  Fenris didn't answer, but the horrified expression on his face made it unnecessary.  Danarius laughed, pleased for the first time since the captain of this ship had insisted that slaves were to be left behind.

“Let her go!”  That was Fenris, his voice ringing in a way that Danarius had never heard before.  Instead of angering him, however, it just increased his amusement.

“So you care for this useless girl?  I’m surprised, Little Wolf.  You could have been a bed-mate to any number of women who are her superior.  What does this silly chit have to interest you?”

Fenris was speechless with anger at the insults Danarius dealt so carelessly to Grace, but Grace had no problem speaking up.  

“Perhaps what I have is basic human decency?  I’m sure that has been in short supply while Fenris has been your slave - it must be quite the novelty.”  

Danarius glared, and pulled harder on her hair, smiling when she winced.  “I didn't ask your opinion on the matter, but it is interesting to find that you seem to care for him as well.  He is quite impressive, is he not?”  Grace scowled, but before she could answer, Danarius was already addressing Fenris again.

“Ohh, Little Wolf.  You seem to have become quite entangled with this useless child.  What did you hope to gain?  She has no power, no influence, no wealth of her own.  No matter, she will serve well enough for my purposes.”

Danarius paced along the abandoned aft rail of the ship, pulling Grace along with him.

“Fenris, Fenris, Fenris.  You seem to have forgotten one of the most basic principles of slavery, my pet.”  He stopped suddenly, his eyes meeting Fenris’ in a piercing glare.  “There is nothing - _nothing_ \- that you value, which I cannot take from you.”

That was the only warning he gave either of them before drawing his ceremonial knife and slicing it deeply across Grace’s throat.  Fenris heard his own voice yelling “NO” as time seemed to slow to a crawl.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grace’s gaze found his for the barest instant before the light fled her eyes forever.  Her body crumbled, and Danarius let go of her hair, letting her fall carelessly to the deck; used and tossed aside.  Fenris stared, his mind and heart rejecting what his eyes told him.

Grace was dead.  Dead because she had dared to think he had some value, dead because she had dared to care for him.  Grace was dead at Danarius’ hand, and it was Fenris’ fault.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The drops of blood that sprayed from Grace’s throat in the path of the knife didn't drop to the deck, even as her body did.  The blood drops hung in the air above Danarius’ outstretched hand.  Above the spreading pool of blood on the deck a red fog formed, growing rapidly as the fog and more drops of blood rose to swirl around Danarius.  Suddenly a Rage demon stood next to Danarius, watching him patiently.

“There is a Qunari ship trying to block the harbor.  Destroy the ship and the monsters aboard it.”  Danarius’ voice was firm, utterly unconcerned about the casual murder of his sister-in-law.  The demon nodded acknowledgement and vanished.  Danarius waved a hand negligently, and a large wave rose up next to the ship.  Another gesture, and the wave crashed across the deck, flooding it for just a moment before subsiding; when the water was gone, so was Grace’s body and any hint of what had occurred.  

………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Danarius looked back at Fenris.  “I would run if I were you, pet.  The Qunari will be here soon, and I would hate for them to damage my property before I can return to claim it.  Take good care of yourself.”  

He turned away, then spun back; staring at Fenris intently, he used a tone he knew would guarantee that  his words would carve themselves into the slave’s mind and burn there forever. _“There is nothing that you value, which I cannot take from you.”_  Then, in a tone dripping with condescension, he added, “I do hope you’ve learned your lesson, pet.”  Danarius turned his back on his still frozen slave and made his way toward the bow of the ship.  

They were finally getting under way, the sailors in two of the ship’s boats out in front rowing for all they were worth to get the ship moving against the tide.  

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As Danarius walked toward the crowd gathered at the bow, he could see the flames beginning to engulf the Qunari vessel at the head of the bay.  A cheer went up among the refugees, and the magister allowed a cold smile to cross his face.  Two objectives accomplished with one act, not bad for a night that had been going so very poorly.  

Now, he just had to come up with an appropriate story about what had become of Grace to tell to his wife.  It wouldn’t do to upset her while she was carrying his child, after all.  Would she believe that Grace had refused to leave?  Probably not.  She was more likely to believe that Grace had sacrificed herself in some manner.  Yes, that was what he would tell her…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. I really hope you enjoyed the story, and don't hate me too much for the ending!  
> I'm toying with a sequel; doing a bit with Fenris and the Fog Warriors before going into some of the game content and how this past effects Fenris' behavior in DAII - especially when romanced by a female Hawke.   
> Thank you for reading, and especially for the kudos and comments!


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